


Poems Have Possibilities But Math Has Answers

by painted_pain



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/pseuds/painted_pain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is the poet, hiding behind his pseudonym and the death of a parent, Jared the newly graduated, the newly come out, who ran away from home, rather than face the consequences of his actions. When they collide, there are instant fireworks. There are words written, many kisses had, but in between dates in the park and bus rides to work, Jensen withdraws and Jared reaches a breaking point. They discover that happy endings are hard to come by and that life is not a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poems Have Possibilities But Math Has Answers

**PROLOGUE**

> **Jensen**

Jensen looked up at the summer sun, the bright white light in the centre of a too blue sky making him squint. It was hot. Too hot. He felt claustrophobic in his t-shirt, wrapped up and all his senses muffled. He tugged at the neck of his t-shirt. Swallowing, his throat clicking dryly, he swiped a hand across his forehead.

Jensen opened the door to his bookstore, the darkly stained wood the colour of the richest chocolate, warm and familiar. He smoothed his thumb over the brass doorknob, a small smile cracking across his cheeks. Most mornings, he opened the shore with this bittersweet feeling, a seven-month grief weighing him down. 

The jingle of the bell greeted him, far too cheery this early in the morning. The store was warm, thick heavy air filled with that distinct scent of books, the crisp freshness of the new ones, the mustiness of the old. The door closed behind him with a loud snick, the ‘open’ sign clacking against the glass panelling. A head popped out from the door behind the counter, black hair tousled and sticking up every which way. His white shirt was bright against his dark skin but crumpled and buttoned up wrong. He held a cup of steaming coffee in one hand. 

Jensen braced himself. Stopped in the middle of the floor, wooden floorboards creaking lightly, surrounded by other people’s words, so much better than his own. 

“So, you write anything?” Jakob asked, a twist to his lips. It was almost a smirk but too gentle, his almond eyes kind, knowing. Jensen heard the same words every single day for the past eight months. His answer was always the same. He shrugged, eyes slanting to the ground, shoulders curving in, this defeated slump Jensen hated to feel. Hated that it was even there, this physical tick so new to him.

Jakob took a look at him, took in the bags beneath Jensen’s eyes. Jensen squirmed.

“You sleep at all?” Jakob asked.

 _This is why you should never work with your friends_ , Jensen thought. They know you far too well, know how to read you. They never let you off the hook, relentless. Jensen sighed, not an answer, didn’t really give one. He gave nothing but a smile for Jakob, a hint to drop it. Jakob offered the coffee in his hand, an apology.

Maybe working with a friend isn’t so bad. Jensen inhaled the smell, deep and rich, and gulped the coffee down. Jakob smirked at him this time, a true smirk, jovial and mocking. He turned, went back through the door to continue sorting through the new stock they received the day before.

Jensen leaned heavily against the counter, deflating suddenly without Jakob’s presence to buoy him up. He looked down at the wood of the counter, the irregular knot and whorls. Stained just as dark as the door, it offered a contrast to the clean white of the walls, the honey-toned wood of the floor. He’d had this place seven months, just under, maybe, he didn’t watch the passing of time, stuck as he was. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe it was his, this small little bookstore, tucked beside a busy coffee shop just outside Richardson. It looked onto a park, green as they come, kids shrieking in the playground and dogs barking, family days out on Saturdays when the sun was out, picnics and Frisbees, football tackles. It wasn’t hard to understand why his Dad had loved this place but it only made it difficult for Jensen. 

He lived a ten-minute walk away, up the street and round the corner. He owned a car but left it parked on the street outside his apartment, only used it when he wanted to visit his parents’ home, even though taking the bus was probably quicker. But when he went to visit, only his mother opened the door to greet him. Jensen stared down at the dregs of coffee in his mug, thought _just her, now,_ and it echoed horribly in his head, rolled like that jagged, cold stone in his stomach. Sometime Jensen couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear to think about it, but how could he avoid it here? In this little place, the home of a father’s dream, the dream a son took up and floundered in, a little boy lost without his father. 

Jensen shuddered, pushed the coffee along the counter, took off his jacket when he felt sweat slide down his back, and walked to the backroom, hung it up and went to help Jakob. Forced a laugh at Jakob’s wrongly buttoned shirt. He poked at the other man’s stomach. 

“You get dressed in the dark or lose your glasses, old man?”

Jakob mock-growled and said, “I’m not the one who actually wears glasses, _old man_. 

He poked back, a vicious jabbing finger, making Jensen yelp and wince. His laughter echoed around the room, big and braying but infectious. Jensen laughed for real this time, a quiet thing barely getting past his lips, but real. Jakob had that effect on people, a joker, easy with laughter, easier still with flapping hands and poking fingers, but he was kind and gentle. He was Jensen’s oldest friend, knew enough when to press and when to step back; Jensen couldn’t ask for better.

“Yeah, yeah, sticks and stones, but you’re the one who still needs mommy dearest to help him dress in the morning.”

“You motherfucker,” Jakob laughed and leapt on Jensen, those hands flying, a tickle-attack. 

Jensen didn’t think for the rest of the day. He couldn’t do it in this place, not yet, seven months later still seven months too soon. So he tamped the words down, worthless now, and read those of other people, better words, helped his customers, superficial words not worth remembering, nothing but _here go, ma’am, sir, only $14.99, come again soon_. Jokes with Jakob, words that were full of laughter and life, but a liveliness that didn’t belong to Jensen. 

And when he went home, arrived at seven on the dot, he ate dinner alone, watched tv, read. All those words surrounded him, taunted him, and he couldn’t do it, even though he sat at his mahogany desk, maybe the most expensive thing he owned, barring his flatscreen sitting in the bookcase. Every night Jensen sat there, every night since the last book was published, since the last poem was written and Jensen was drained, surrounded by words but not full of them. He had nothing to say anymore. Sometimes his agent called, not a yelling kind of man, but his voice was hard, unyielding. Didn’t allow any excuses.

“Jensen, son, I know that you’re still grieving and I understand that, I do,” Robert O’Callaghan often stated, “but you must start writing again. D.S. Winchester will only last as long as you keep the public interested. Not writing equals an uninterested public.” 

Jensen rolled his eyes. 

“You are popular and people love your stuff but that can only last so long. Public affection is a fickle thing.” A favourite saying that made no sense to Jensen. Who cares about the fucking public, he wanted to yell every time, who _fucking_ cares? My father is fucking _dead_. 

After those phone calls, well-meaning in their intention but devoid of any actual help, Jensen would curl up in bed, aware of how pathetic he was, wishing so many things, maybe for a fairytale or two, some good luck. Useless things now, he knew. But most of the time, he sat at his desk. He stared unseeing out his bay window that looks upon the green lawn in front of the apartment building. He always had an open notebook in front of him, a pen held in his hand, fingers twirling it like a baton and his laptop open, on but with the screensaver flashing. Jensen sat there until the early hours of the morning, watching the sky wash in colours of pink and red and blue and he knew it was beautiful, wonderful, colourful. But it was as if he couldn’t see the colours anymore, couldn’t feel them.

And then he would uncurl himself, pull himself out of wherever he had drifted too and shower, get dressed, walk to the bookstore, same as every day.

Wash, rinse and repeat. Same routine, stagnant, stale. Jensen static and stalling.

~*~

**PART ONE**

Jensen sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the notebook. The open pages were blank. He watched as the sun rose, the summer sun, bright and filling the world with light. The street was empty, but for how long, Jensen couldn’t be sure. Empty like the pages of his notebook and he pressed a hand into his eye, pressure causing exploding light. Jensen was exhausted from staying up all night, eyelids heavy and gritty.

Noise thundered down the hallway outside his apartment and Jensen started, from the unexpected sounds of a dog woofing and a man’s voice hushing, stern but not unkind. Jensen couldn’t tell the words, just the tone of the voice, deep and soothing. He heard the front door of the apartment building opened with a bang and he looked out his bay window to see two large dogs come tumbling out. They were big and all legs, each falling over the other. Jensen smiled and then that smile froze as he saw the man that followed. Tall but well-accustomed to it, comfortable in his height, the length of his legs leaping down the front stairs onto the gravelled path. His dogs jumped over to him, jumped _on_ him and the man did nothing but laugh, a smile wide and bright and living, dimples cut deep and eyes sparkling. For a moment Jensen couldn’t breathe for it, for the depth of colour he saw. The man rolled on the grass with his dogs laughing, loud enough for some of it to filter through to Jensen and the man’s laugh made Jensen laugh, caught up in the affection and fondness he was seeing.

His fingers twitched, convulsing around the pen. Jensen stared down at them, as if he’d never seen them before and then looked back out the window. He watched as the man began stretching and Jensen’s eyes tracked the lines of his muscles, the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist, the contrast of it. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The man started walking, the dogs so well trained that they needed no leash, just walked beside the man, rubbing up against his legs, their adoration so clear to Jensen.

He stared until he could see the man and his dogs no longer. He began to write, filled with that need to put pen to paper, to express what he felt, the wonder. Needed to get it out.

> Early morning summer sun greets the early risers and the ones  
>  who have yet to sleep, pens slaving over paper with nothing but empty  
>  lines, the hand holding that pen so heavy, just as empty, so lifeless, so
> 
> still, but the day out there is not as empty, perhaps too full, of light and  
>  the Runner and his dogs, all three so loud and full, yes, of the early  
>  summer sun and life and laughter, dogs smiling, surely, mouths pulled
> 
> up and tongues out, the Runner panting with them, chest heaving, skin  
>  alight with a heavy sheen of sweat, so alive and laughing still, smile so wide  
>  it is too big for his face and fills up the now too-full world, falling off the
> 
> corners of his mouth and tangling up his feet and so he falls, falls, but  
>  he laughs still, this man, larger than life, this Runner and his dogs, yet not  
>  only a man; see the child he once was and still is, there, yes!, there, in 
> 
> his eyes, that crinkle caught on the edges of his eyes, there in the way he  
>  tumbles along the grass with his dogs, green stains on his white running  
>  shorts but he does not care, laughs, and see how he laughs, so carefree
> 
> and so free, that is the moment, and his dogs lick his face and all to be  
>  seen on the Runner’s face is a man’s love and a child’s love and all love, this, this is  
>  everything: ‘ _This is it_ ,’ the pen writes on no longer empty paper, no longer lifeless, 
> 
>   
> _A spark, a beginning, a tomorrow, a future. A life.  
>  Alive_.

[ ](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/LargerThanLife_final_zps8d9a8043.png.html)

~*~

Jensen arrived at work over twenty minutes late. He drifted inside, mind still caught up in that morning, images caught within bands of words. Jensen’s own words, perhaps no longer worthless, maybe.

When Jakob asked his standard question, Jensen couldn’t help but blush a deep red. Heat flooded his cheeks. He nodded and Jakob stared at him, mouth quirking up in surprise. It furthered his embarrassment. 

“What? Seriously?” Jakob asked in an incredulous tone. But he caught the blush Jensen was trying to hide by ducking his head and then leered at Jensen. 

“So, what’s his name?”

Jensen jerked, eyes wide in disbelief. “What the—the fuck, Jakob? Dude, someone could hear you!”

Jakob rolled his eyes. “ _Dude_ , there is no one else but us here.” Jensen shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “I have known you for nearly all of your twenty-eight years. Do not try to deflect here, Jensen. I _know_ you.” Jakob chuckled, continued. “I especially know your ‘I just saw a super-cute boy and omigod, he’ll never talk to me’ face. The blush gives it away.”

Jensen scowled, folded his arms. “You make me sound like a thirteen year-old girl.”

Jakob simply leaned on the counter, tucked his hands beneath his chin and fluttered his eyelashes.

“You’re ridiculous.” Jensen stomped his way into the backroom, making a beeline for the coffee sitting waiting on the top of a stack of books. He twirled to face Jakob.

“You do not leave coffee on the brand new merchandise, Jakob!” He pointed viciously at the coffee in its paper cup. Jakob tried to look sheepish but mostly came across as unrepentant as he waved his hand dismissively.

“Drink your coffee before you explode.” Jensen made a dark sound in his throat, bared his teeth. Jakob rolled his eyes.

“And I will never leave coffee on the brand spanking new merchandise ever again, yadda, yadda.”

Jensen shot him a scathing look as he picked up the coffee, cup still warm. Jakob patiently waited while Jensen consumed his coffee quickly, needing a caffeine boost as the adrenaline of this morning had finally begun to wear off, leaving Jensen aware of the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. When he finished, he dropped the cup in the garbage can by the door, unbelievably grateful for the fact that the bookstore was beside a coffee shop that had earlier opening hours. 

“So,” Jakob drawled, drawing the one syllable out for far too long. He leaned against the doorjamb and gave Jensen an appraising look. “Do tell.”

Jensen smiled a little, shook his head. “There isn’t much to it. I was sitting at my desk, staring out the window when this guy and his two dogs appeared and I just,” he shrugged. “I felt inspired to write.”

Jakob looked at him for a long moment. Jensen focused on the books in front of him. He didn’t really want to talk about it, this new inspiration too fragile, too new. He didn’t want to jinx it. Jakob seemed to hear whatever silent plea Jensen was sending out and dropped the subject with a disbelieving hum and walked into the front of the store, getting ready for opening time. Jensen sighed in relief and walked out to join him.

For the rest of the day, a smile would settle upon Jensen’s lips, a bright happy thing. Jakob would look over, relief washing over his features for short second. Jensen didn’t notice. All he saw was that man’s grin, so wide and full of light, a shining thing.

~*~

The thing was, Jensen was out, sure, to his family and friends. His agent knew. But he didn’t say it loudly, he kept it to himself. He was cautious. College had been rough and slurs were sometimes hard to forget, even when they were passed off as a joke. As D.S Winchester, the world didn’t know and couldn’t know. There would be a level of scrutiny and criticism levelled at D.S Winchester as a gay man that Jensen wasn’t comfortable with. He hid behind a pseudonym, trapped himself in a fictional person’s cage. It was a beautiful page, sculpted from his own words, and safe.

He wrote about men, in his first anthology. How it felt to be attracted to a man, the doubt and shame that came with it. He wrote about the newness of first love, how it burned and bruised and hurt. Jensen fell in love with a man who didn’t want to be seen as gay. It rubbed off on Jensen, especially when it ended and he was left a little bit broken. He gave the title of ‘This’ to his first publication because there had been no other name for that relationship. _This thing between us, this thing we do, this, this, this._ It seemed appropriate.

The author of ‘This’, D.S. Winchester, was perceived to be a woman from the very first review. Jensen had just rolled with it, encouraged it by using gender neutral language on the inner cover. He didn’t want to be out like that, in such a huge way. He never found a reason for it to be worth the hassle. Couldn’t find _someone_ who was worth it. He lost belief in himself sometime around seven months ago. It was longer than that, a lifetime, and yet shorter too, like a blink of the eye; he was here and now he’s not. Sorry. 

But Jensen wanted someone who was worth it, could admit to himself that he needed it in a fundamental way. And somehow, something in him was saying, _that man, the Runner_ , with his laughter and passion, and so full of love. The Runner, who inspired him, made him write, and that was worth something, worth more. 

Something in him whispered soon.

~*~

Jensen stumbled into his apartment at seven. His exhaustion finally caught up with him, his body aching, weary, but his mind still racing, still looping the scenes from the morning. This thrum felt almost exotic and Jensen had no idea how to place it, how to label it. There was a smile still on his lips and his cheeks ached with it, but it was a good ache, the best ache. Jensen walked through his small apartment, through the living room into the kitchen, making his way into his bedroom to flop onto his bed face-first. He made a groaning, yawning sound, kicked off his shoes and rubbed a hand across his face. He spread his limbs, a starfish on a brown comforter and fell asleep between one breath and the next.

He woke up the next morning, bright light filtering through his half-opened curtains and falling across his face. He grimaced at the feel of his fuzzy mouth, at the pull of jeans against his skin. He rolled onto his back, lifting up his hips and shoving the denim down his thighs with his hands. He kicked them off, flinging them into a far corner, laughing at himself, feeling like a belligerent teenager. He wriggled out of his top and flung that as well, in the same direction as the jeans. He lay there for a while in his boxers, staring at the off-white ceiling, think of nothing but the feel of the comforter beneath him, the slightly cool air from the bathroom drifting over his skin. He shivered lightly and huffed a laugh at the growling noise that erupted from his stomach. 

Jensen lurched to his feet, too fast, and felt light-headed for a brief moment. He walked slowly into his kitchen, still revelling in the feeling of being able to walk around his own home as he chose. He could walk around naked, and he did, quite often, with a quiet sense of freedom. Jensen paused in front of the refrigerator, a memory caught up in the spinning of his thoughts, his dad laughing in this very kitchen, having caught his son walking around in the buff, a spare key the culprit behind Jensen’s awkward embarrassment, his dad saying, “A man must feel comfortable in his home, son,” and Jensen joining in with the laughter, hiding behind the breakfast counter. Hiding his face behind his hands.

Jensen found himself leaning against the cool metal, his forehead pressed up against it, the palms pressed flat, as if he could sink into it, a perfect steel sculpture. He couldn’t breathe. Would it always be like this? All hard lines and razor sharp edges. Take the wrong turn and end up walking through briars, walking on hot coals, burning grief wherever he turned. He knew it would get better, die down, a wound that would heal but leave behind a scar that would always itch, maybe ache in the cold. Not this.

The light falling through the big bay window slowly swept across the floor, marking the movement of time, how the day went on, regardless. Jensen couldn’t stay there forever. He needed to move, needed a change, something. He opened the refrigerator door, grabbed the milk, opened a cupboard, grabbed a box of cereal. Nothing but movement, got a bowl, a spoon, mix it all together and there, his breakfast. Walked to his desk and sat down. Ate slowly, methodically, mechanically. The lights were on but nobody was really home. 

Spoon to bowl, spoon to mouth, eat, chew. Repeat. 

And then there was barking, a loud yipping sound, followed by laughter, the Runner’s laughter. Lights were on, and somebody was now home, say hello. Jensen put the nearly empty bowl on his desk. The man and his two dogs were coming back from their run. Sweat dripped down the man’s neck, along his naked chest, his top tucked into the back on his running shorts. Jensen couldn’t look away, eyes riveted, drawn in, throat dry and chest tight. A tingle shivered down his spine at the sight of the guy’s hair, wet with sweat, curling over his ears, at the nape of his neck. He wanted to lick the sweat there, wrap his hand around, make scritch-scratching motions with his nails, wrap his fingers in the strands and tuck, exposing that long lean neck to Jensen’s mouth, his teeth and – 

Jensen shuddered hard, nerves tingling, arousal pulling low in his gut. He sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering closed at the image, at how that skin would feel, sweat-damp and over-heated with exertion. The suddenness of his want threw Jensen, this newness of it, its sharper edge more keenly felt.

The Runner began his stretches, cooling down, dogs lying panting at his feet, curled up together. The smile on the man’s face was something Jensen didn’t think could ever be matched in its startling sincerity. There was a wistfulness, a yearning, but for what Jensen couldn’t tell. Doubted he ever would. There was a stillness in the Runner, a moment of quiet reflection, and it may have been Jensen’s own projections, his own yearning. After all, this was just a man. 

As the man bent forward, reaching downwards to the grass, his hair flopped across his forehead, falling into his eyes. He shook his head irritably, a precise and practiced flick. Jensen’s fingers itched to smooth the hair back, tuck it into place and then move a thumb along the soft skin of this Runner’s face. To trace along the contours of his face, the angles of his cheekbones, the soft pink bow of his upper lip.

Jensen stumbled to his feet, backing away from the window, such intensity of feeling too much too quickly. He shuffled to his bedroom, biting his lower lip at the drag of cotton across his mostly hard cock. _What do I do with this_ , he thought, as he lay back on his bed. _Do I ignore it?_ He laid his hand just below his navel, a gentle touch against his cock and it jumped to full hardness. He wanted this, even as he flushed in shame.

His other hand came to rest on the softness of his inner thigh, just below his balls. One slight nudge and he gasped. He pictured the Runner’s height, the length of his legs, his arms. Pictured how they would look wrapped around him. How they would feel, tight and hot, a perfect fit. Heat zinged through him, danced along his nervous system, played him like a piano until he was humming with it. 

Jensen pulled down his boxers, lifted them up and over his red, swollen cock, tucked the elastic band beneath his balls, let it snap into place. The slight pain and shock of ran through him, making everything better, more intense. He cupped the hand by his thigh around his balls, rolled them gently. He shuddered out a breath, helpless at the feeling, the desperation surging through him. He wrapped the other hand around his cock, thumb collecting the precome sliding out of his slit and spreading it down and around, slicking it up. He tugged once, hard, and inhaled a sharp breath, feeling dizzy with it. Jensen thought of the sweat sliding down the Runner’s skin, thought of licking along the trails left behind, the heat of him, the musky, heady smell and jerked off faster, rougher. He imagined the dark tan of the Runner’s shoulders and abs, imagined how the skin of his upper thighs and ass would be paler, softer, downy hairs catching on his lips as Jensen kissed his way lower and lower and lower – 

Jensen came with a gasp and a loud groan, body jerking and skin tingling, mind lighting up with pleasure, white hot. He let out a soft grunt at each pulse of come that splattered against his chest, sticky and warm against his hot skin, twitching as the throbs of his orgasm echoed through him.

He lay there for a while. He breathed heavily and deeply, blinking up at the ceiling.

~*~

Jensen fell into a new routine. He got home from work and ate, crashed, got up early. He watched the Runner, fell into bed and jerked off. After a shower, he headed into work and came home, and started all over again. There was a fragile thing in his chest, a hope that he didn’t want to look at too closely. Jakob watched as Jensen pulled out his notebook for the first time in the bookstore and sat down at the counter, pen scratching along the paper. Words came easier now, a dam somewhere in Jensen broken open and they flowed forth, speaking of hope and desire and discovery.

 _There you are,_ they said. 

Jensen didn’t know what to do with those words, so he wrote them down and he waited. Watched the days go by, marked by the Runner’s early morning jog every day but Sunday. A week passed, same routine. But Jensen was awake now. May slid into June and the heat built, humidity making everything uncomfortable. But the man was out running every day, not bothering with a t-shirt at all now, came back so sweat-slicked it looked like he had just stepped out from the shower. Jensen ached to slide his fingers through it, to taste it. He wanted to make him shiver, to pull moans out of him and blissful sated smiles. Jensen wanted to share this desire with him, have it spark between them and wind higher and higher and higher.

Routine established. Repeat, repeat. Sit down at the desk and write in the mornings, in the evenings before after eating. Lights blazing and a party inside. Jensen was lit up with bright words and hope. But he followed his routine. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eat, write, jerk off, sleep. Hope.

Until one day in the middle of June, there was a knock on the door.

~*~

[](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/Ivefoundyou_zps60a14761.png.html)

Jensen was sitting at his desk, scribbling away at his notebook, frowning at what was written there. His apartment was quiet except for the scrape of his pen across the page. Over and over again, the words said _oh, there you are, I’ve found you_ but Jensen was becoming frustrated, those words no longer enough, wanting more but no idea how to go about it, stuck as he was.

A stuttering knock fell against the door, hesitant and unsure in the softness of it. Jensen frowned, not expecting any visitors; he saw Jakob nearly every day at the bookstore, his other friends on a Saturday night, more infrequently now, and his mama once a fortnight, couldn’t handle any more than that. He stood up, crossed the room and opened the door.

At first all he saw was a pale face and the shock of blood on a dishcloth, clutched to the Runner’s chest. The Runner made a noise, a gasp of awe.

“Dude. Dude, how come my place doesn’t look like this?”

Jensen stared at the man and couldn’t say anything, too stunned to think, to speak. The bright red seeping into the white dishcloth wrapped around his left hand was shocking, terrifying. The Runner’s hands were shaking.

“I mean, my place is a mess, cracked paint, damp on the ceiling, water stains, an old kitchen, ratty furniture.” The Runner slumped down against the doorjamb, laughing nervously, and peering into the apartment behind Jensen. “But your place is so white, and perfect, and _shiny._ ”

Jensen stood blinking for a moment, confused, unsure what to think or what to do. He caught another glimpse of the Runner’s blood.

“Listen,” he said, holding up a hand, interrupting, “are you alright? You’re bleeding, heavily, I think. You need help or--?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah, sure, help.” He turned wide eyes onto Jensen. His face was getting paler, shock making him babble. 

“Urm, I was cutting up tomatoes, late breakfast, a fry, ya know? And the knife slipped and I cut myself and I don’t have a car so I can’t get to the hospital because it’s not really worth an ambulance. So.” The man blinked, licked his lips, cut his eyes sideways to Jensen’s, looking sheepish, apologetic. “So I was wondering if you had a car and could drop me off at the ER.” The man coughed, a flush high on his cheeks, embarrassed now. “If that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Jensen caught that flush and wanted to soothe it away, make him feel comfortable and safe. The Runner was waiting for an answer, chewing his lips, pain carving tight lines around his mouth, his eyes. And Jensen couldn’t say no, not to eyes that big and hazel. He suddenly realised the Runner was younger than Jensen, sweet-faced with it, but not a child. Probably his first time living away from home, he thought and Jensen wanted to kiss away the hurt, make it better anyway he could.

“Yeah, sure that’s no problem.” Jensen smiled at the look of pure relief that lit up the man’s face. Jensen dashed to the kitchen counter, grabbed his keys, yanked on his shoes, didn’t bother with a jacket, not in this heat. The Runner was in basketball shorts and a grey v-neck, flip-flops on his feet. His toes curled against the rubber and Jensen’s smile widened. He didn’t really know this man but wanted to, and it made him fond. Embarrassingly so.

He shut the door behind him and shooed the man outside, a hand on the man’s shoulder gently steering to Jensen’s car. As they walked outside, the Runner uncurled a bit, stood up. Jensen was struck by his height, the determination on his face.

They clambered in the car. The Runner moved slowly, as if any sudden movement could jar his hand. For all his care, he still grimaced as he reached for the seatbelt and accidentally knocked against his forearm, jarring his hand. The dishcloth was more red than white by now, but appeared to have stopped bleeding quite so much. Jensen took the seatbelt from him and buckled it for him, a small shrug for the other man’s grateful smile.

He started driving, heading towards the medical centre nearby, just outside Garland, closer than any other hospital, and then said aloud, “What about your dogs, will they be okay?”

The man looked at him, surprising Jensen by not looking startled at Jensen’s knowledge of his two dogs. It was a happy smile, perhaps, at the showing of concern. “Yeah, sure, Jensen, they’re good dogs, the best. They don’t mess up the apartment when I’m not there. They’ll be fine.”

It took a minute for Jensen to catch on that the man knew his name and at the next red light, turned to stare at him. “How do you know my name?” he asked, curious but not angry, not upset.

The man looked up at the roof of the car, kept his eyes there, but smiled ruefully. “I, uh. I see you sitting at your desk through the bay window when I come back from my run. And I, I checked your apartment number against the list for the doorbells out by the front door, saw your second name and then looked you up in the phone directory to find your first.”

“Well.” Jensen stalled. He didn’t even know what to do with that, nor what to say. Deja vu. It was an invasion of privacy, too much and too close. He was tightly wrapped and Jared was unravelling him. He should be offended, or at the very least, worried, but then, Jensen jerked off to the image of the Runner pretty much every day, so he guessed they were even. It was disconcerting.

“I guess I have my own stalker then.” He bit his lip at the hypocrisy. He glanced over at the other man’s hand, the blood on the dishcloth making his heart rate kick up. Jensen laughed after a moment, showing the man that he was fine, that Jensen wasn’t going to kick him out of the car or anything.

“You’re so lucky,” the man said, grinning. “I’m Jared.” He went as if to hold out a hand but grunted, a pained sound. “I’d shake your hand but I’m currently trying to make sure my finger doesn’t fall off.”

Jensen swallowed. “Fall off? That serious?” he managed to push out.

“Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it sure fucking feels like it’s gonna fall off.” _Jared_ \- Jensen thought, rolled the name around in his head, tasting it, found he liked it – huffed out a sigh, dejected, pained. Jensen drove as quick as he could, arrived at the medical centre ten minutes later, watched Jared hop out of the car, said “I’ll give you a lift home, yeah? Give me your phone, I’ll give you my number and text me, okay? “

Jared leaned against the door, pulled out his phone and Jensen programmed in his number, handed it back with a salute. “Good luck, Jared, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Jared smiled at him. It was the same smile he gave his dogs, wide and happy and fond. He blasted Jensen with it, then turned and jogged inside, leaving Jensen feeling dazed. His hands shook, just a little, not enough to be worth mentioning. Just the shock of seeing all that blood. 

Jared would be fine, he told himself.

~*~

Jensen spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon alternating between pacing in his living room and watching the TV, eyes unfocused, checking his phone every minute. He couldn’t eat, drank too much water. He waited.

Maybe five hours after he had dropped Jared off, his phone beeped, a text message from an unknown number.

_finishin up now, got nine stitches, i am so badass. j._

Jensen snorted as he read. He made his way outside, hopped into the car and drove. He arrived fifteen minutes later to see Jared waiting by the entrance of the medical centre. His eyes were at half-mast and his body was slumped, curved inwards. Jared’s left hand had been wrapped up, caught in a foam sling. He looked exhausted, Jensen realised, face pale, bags set deep under his eyes.

Jensen parked and walked over to Jared, received an armful of exhaustion-heavy limbs for all his efforts, slack and loose. An arm curled around his waist, Jared tucking his face into the crook of Jensen’s neck. Jared began to rub his nose against the skin there.

“Hey, Jenny,” he crooned. Jensen had to roll his eyes at the moniker.

“They drug you or something?” Jensen asked, struggling not to grin at the slurring in Jared’s voice. Nine stitches had to hurt. 

Jared took out a bottle out of his shorts pocket and rattled them in Jensen’s face. “Oh yeah.” He wobbled a little on his feet.

“Come on, big guy, let’s get going.” Jensen grunted at the weight of Jared as he leaned on Jensen’s shoulders, feet dragging. As soon as they got in the car, Jared yawned, a deep cavern opening and closing, followed by a sigh. Jared shuffled his limbs, rubbing up against the leather of the seat, trying to get comfortable. Jensen did his seatbelt for him, buckled him up. He looked up to see Jared staring right at him, a small smile dancing on his lips, a private, secret smile. Jared leaned forward. His hazel eyes were wide, the light coming in through the car window making them look golden. Jensen smiled back, received the glide of a thumb along the curve of his jawline, felt Jared’s breath against his cheek and his own caught in his throat, stuttered out. 

“Thanks Jensen,” Jared whispered. And it was intimate, that sound, low and sweet, everything Jensen was looking for, hoping for. Jared was too close, eyes on Jensen’s lips and licking his own. Jensen wasn’t going take it, not like this. Jared was hopped up on painkillers. Jensen would never take advantage of that, Jared probably didn’t even know what he was doing. 

Jensen sat back, kept the smile on his face, not that is was going anywhere, and drove home. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jared’s head slid forwards, his chin coming to rest against his chest. In that moment, Jensen could see Jared dozing on a couch, drool at the corner of his mouth, a game going unwatched on a TV screen. He imagined himself beside Jared, empty pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of them, a beer in one hand. Imagined shoving Jared as he started snoring and then leaning in for a sloppy, sleepy kiss. Jensen felt warm all over, at how happy and normal the image was. Jared shifted beside him, his hair falling against his forehead. Jensen smiled.

~*~

Back outside Jared’s apartment, Jared fumbled through his pockets for his keys with one hand, the clink of his bottle of painkillers against his phone obvious in the silence of the hallway. Finally, he opened the door, only to be jumped upon by two over-excited eager dogs, ending up knocked backwards against Jensen. Jensen grabbed Jared’s shoulders to steady him, startled. Jared laughed and his dogs barked back. He fell on his knees, weaving a little. He tilted his face to accept their kisses, cooed at them. His free hand ruffled against their fur sloppily, pushing at them when they got to close to his bandaged left hand.

Jensen closed the door behind him as he stood in the apartment, took in the state of Jared’s living room. He wondered for a moment if his own living room had ever been that bad. The floorboards were covered in scuff marks, a threadbare rug in front of the ratty old couch. The paint was beginning to peel in certain areas. Jensen stared. Why hadn’t Jared said anything to the landlord? He should. The lease agreement was probably different, Jensen thought. Maybe it was all Jared could afford. He shuffled his feet on the floor, couldn’t bring himself to look at Jared. 

One of the dogs leaped at him and distracted him. Jensen smiled down at it, cupped its head and scrubbed his fingers through the fur down its neck.

“That’s Harley,” Jared said, sitting on the floor with the other dog sprawled across his lap. “And this sweetheart is Sadie.” He looked down at her, petted her, fussed over her. “Who’s a good girl, huh?” 

Harley fell off Jensen and dashed over to Jared at the sound of his voice, butting Sadie out of the way so he could snuggle up against Jared. Jensen just watched the three of them for a while, a warm contentment rushing through him. He spied two large and very empty bowls down by the kitchen counter and went over, filling one with water, found the bag of dog food in the cupboard beneath the sink and filled the second bowl. Sadie and Harley ran over to where Jensen stood, butted him out of the way to get to the food, and left Jared empty-handed by the door. Jared smiled up at Jensen, thankful. 

“They’re my babies.” His voice was quiet, his eyes soft and fond. He slumped slightly and Jensen walked over to him, hooked an arm under his shoulders and pulled him up. 

“Time for a nap,” Jensen suggested and Jared nodded his head and kept nodding, head wobbling on his neck. Jensen snorted, and cupped Jared’s cheek, said softly, “You can stop nodding now.” And Jared nodded yet again, knocking against Jensen’s hand and Jensen laughed, Jared smiling back.

“Come on.” Jensen led Jared into the bedroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bed, watching as Jared kicked off his flip-flops and rolled onto his side. He curled up into a foetus position, suddenly so small and so innocent that Jensen grabbed the sea-green comforter hanging off the end of the bed and pulled it up, draped it over Jared. He stood for a minute and then leaned forward, brushed the hair off Jared’s forehead as his fingers had always itched to do. Jared snuffled, fluttering his eyes open, murmured, “Thanks, Jen.” 

And Jensen left with his heart lying there on the bed beside him, knowing better, but still unable to help himself.

~*~

**PART TWO**

Jensen quietly left Jared’s apartment but didn’t go back to his own. Instead, he climbed into his car and drove. He didn’t know what he was doing, where his thoughts were.

That was a lie. They were where they had been for the last several weeks, on Jared. The Runner. Stuck on the bend of his smile, the curve of his back as he lay curled up in bed, Jared smiling, Jared laughing, his murmured words, his hand on Jensen’s cheek. The way he slumped over in the car, half-asleep. 

Jensen drove and drove, ended up outside the cemetery with the engine idling. His hands clenched around the steering wheel, so tight the skin around his knuckles was blanched white. He hadn’t been here in seven months.

Jensen drove through the gates, slowly, carefully, his lips curled inwards, bitten red. Parked the car, took several deep breathes, stepped out onto the gravel of the parking lot. Jensen began walking, one foot in front of the other. Forward momentum. 

He walked through row upon row of gravestones. His eyes caught on the words engraved there, _in loving memory, dearly departed, rest in peace, beloved sister, brother, wife, son, daughter, mother, husband. Father._ He stopped walking.

Before him was his father’s gravestone. The dark granite was polished to a fine finish, green grass grown now, no longer a dark clump of sodden earth. Fresh flowers, red and yellow roses, rested against the base of the gravestone, placed there by his mama. She loved roses and his dad had loved them the colour of sunrise, petals coloured to welcome the morning. He shuffled forward, placed a hand on the top edge of the gravestone. He rubbed his fingers along it, feeling the difference in texture. The smoothness of the polished front and the roughness of the top, natural and unchanged. 

Jensen opened his mouth to speak and there was silence, broken only by the wind through the trees and grass rustling. He didn’t know what to say, if he should say anything at all. He looked around, saw one person, but they were in the far distance, a dark moving figure amongst the lighter shades of stone. He kept his hand on the cool granite, dropped to his knees, the ground dry, hard and compact. He dragged his fingers down, traced the curves of the carved words; _Here lies Alan Ackles, beloved husband and father. May he Rest In Peace._ Kept his fingers on the letters of his father’s name, the curve of the ‘a’, the straight line of the ‘n’. His hand stilled, rested there, palm hiding the letters and he covered his face with his other hand.

It washed over him, how much he missed his father. His laughter, old and cracked but true, his loving eyes, the hands that had steered Jensen, helped him along the way, steady and sure. It was that he missed the most, he realised. He missed the advice his father would give, his gentle hand, clapped over Jensen’s shoulder, giving him a push but letting him find his own feet. Without that push, Jensen was lost at sea without a compass, the skies clouded, no true north to be found. 

Jensen’s breath rattled in his chest, ragged sounding, hitching with silent sobs. He sat like that for a long while. The sun started to set. The sun changed colours above him, from a burning white-yellow, to an orange-red, turning the sky pink. Those colours splashed across the gravestone.

“You wanted me to write as me, be proud of who I am, not care about what others thought.” The words fell from his lips unbidden, heavy as stones in the silence.

“You died.” His voice was a rasping thing. His hand fell down by his knees, uncovering eyes now red-rimmed. Jensen swallowed, said it again, had to hear it. “You died, and I couldn’t do it. I was too scared and I hid.”

[ ](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/ihid_final_zpsbe7ed783.png.html)

His right hand slid down the granite. Jensen glimpsed his father’s name and brushed his thumb over it. He licked his lips. “Did I let you down?” Both hands on the ground now, fingers curled in the grass, pulling at the strands, ripping them out of the earth. Jensen waited but he heard no reply. He knew there would never be one, only the echoes of what Jensen wanted to hear. He looked up at the darkening sky and smiled. Turned his eyes back to his father’s gravestone, felt the smile on his face to be real.

“I never said thank you, for the bookstore. I love working there, with Jakob. You were right to hire him, he’s really dedicated.” Jensen paused, smile widening. “So thanks, Dad. For everything.”

Jensen traced the lettering one more time and then stood up, looking down at where his father’s body rested, and turned away, walked back to the car, got in and left, the smile still on his face. His father’s smile in his mind and the feel of a hand on his shoulder, the gentlest of pushes forward.

~*~

When he arrived home, he paused for a moment outside Jared’s door, listening. He waited for some sort of sound, an indication that Jared was up and moving about, but all was silent. Jensen pressed a hand against the door, palm flat, and pushed himself off towards his own door, keys already in his hand. Ten minutes later he was sitting at the breakfast counter in the kitchen, a bowl of reheated spaghetti bolognese before him. He ate quickly, for no other reason than he was hungry, finished, put the bowl in the sink, pulled out his cell phone and called his mama.

She answered the phone with a cheery, “Jensen, my love.”

“Hey, Mama.” Jensen walked into the living room, sat back on the couch, relaxed into it. “How’re you?” He heard a soft exhale, remembered he wasn’t the only one who lost someone important, listened as she spoke carefully.

“Better, I think. I’ve joined a knitting club.”

Jensen laughed. “What, knitting in the summer? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Oh hush, now. It’s not just hats and scarves and gloves, but blankets and cushion covers. You just wait, Jensen, I’ll have you dressed head to toe in your mother’s handiwork.”

“Oh God, Mama, please, no!” he begged, his smile heard plainly in his voice and his Mama laughed.

“I wouldn’t put you through that, sweetheart, I love you too much to make you wear my horrible knitting.” She laughed once, short and sweet. “Your father would have worn whatever I made with a smile, just because I made it.” She sighed. “I miss him so much.”

Jensen coughed, a hot itch at the back of his eyes. “I know, I miss him too. I,” he hesitated, sucked in a breath. “I went to his grave today. Went for a drive to clear my head and I ended up there.”

He heard his Mama sniff quietly at the other end of the phone. “You were where you needed to be, pet. You feel better?” she asked

“Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, I actually do.”

“I always end up speaking to the gravestone, as if I’m talking to him. Part of me feels like a crazy person but the other part. Well, I think he’s somewhere listening and that helps.” Her voice cracks a little and Jensen wants to see her so bad, run over and scoop her up in a hug, the best a mother can get from her son.

“I talked to him too and you’re right. It helped.”

“Oh, Jensen.”

“I know, Ma. I know.”

~*~

Jensen woke up the next morning feeling lighter, like the stone rolling around in his gut had been chipped in half, the edges smoothed. He felt rested. He showered, humming a little, the sound echoing back at him in the bathroom. He dressed quickly after checking the time and dashed out of the house, barely even stopping by Jared’s door. Just a quick a glance, a quick listen. The silence was broken only by the gentle snuffling of what had to be two sleeping dogs.

Jensen was relieved to arrive at the bookstore before Jakob. This week was his turn to open up, get everything ready for nine o’clock. Half seven and the coffee shop was open. Jensen darted in, ordered two black coffees and drank his in the back room of the bookstore, skimming through the newest inventory, _Tales From The Woods_ by Felix Dennis. Jensen frowned at the words on the page, head nodding lightly in a rhythm tapped out by his foot. Not really to his taste, nature poetry, but Dennis had a fluency with rhyme that Jensen ached to have. So involved was he, that Jensen missed Jakob walking in behind him, ended up with the fright of his life as a hand clapped down on his shoulder, causing him to yelp loudly and squirm on the lone chair in the room.

“Motherfucker, I hate you.” Jensen scowled.

Jakob only smiled serenely. “Dude, please. You love me.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and stalked out of the back room, fiddling with the cash register nervously while Jakob followed behind him. He could feel Jakob watching him and he hunched his shoulders protectively. Jensen moved over to the door to flip the sign around, the word ‘open’ looking out onto the street. He turned and sure enough, Jakob was looking at Jensen with his arms folded and his hair cowlicked, tufted around his ears.

“Something is up.” Jakob said, certainty in his voice. “You’re acting nervous and fidgety, and you do that when there is something you don’t want to tell me.” Jakob raised an eyebrow. “You will be telling me, so don’t even try to deny it. I want answers, Jensen.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jensen’s fingers fumbled along the edges of the wooden countertop. 

“Uh-huh. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Jakob walked over to stand in front of Jensen, hands planted squarely on the counter, leaning forward, no give in his eyes but his smile said ‘please’. 

“Look,” Jakob began and Jensen really did not like the sound of that. “I get it, you don’t like talking about stuff. But I’ve let you be for the last while, pretty much ever since your dad passed away.” Jensen flinched, couldn’t help it, ingrained reaction by now, shoulders slumping forward. 

“Jense,” Jakob said softly. “I want to make sure you’re okay and I can’t really do that unless you talk to me.”

Jensen looked up, saw the frustration there in Jakob’s face, a little bit of hurt around the eyes, but mostly concerned understanding. 

“Yeah,” Jensen sighed out, knowing he was right. 

“Okay, go.”

“What?” Jensen squeaked out. “Right now?”

“Yup. I’m cornering you.” Jakob planted his face in his hands, looking up at Jensen with a plaintive expression, pleading in his eyes. There was something of Jared in that look, puppy dog eyes that made Jensen break, words there on his tongue and all he had to do was let them out.

“So there’s this guy, Jared –“

“Knew it!” Jakob interrupted, a look of almost child-like glee dancing across his face.

“Oh, shut up, please.” Jensen huffed. “You’re such an annoying little brat sometimes.”

“I know.” Jakob sounded pleased and completely unabashed.

“Urgh, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“You love me.”

“What happened to shutting up?”

Jakob mimed zipping his lips, going so far as to mime adding a lock and then throwing the key away over his shoulder. Jensen couldn’t help it, chuckled a little, then cleared his throat.

“Right, Jared. He lives across the hall from me, goes for runs every morning and I maybe spy on him and ... stuff.” Jensen went bright red, scuffed his feet along the floor as Jakob exclaimed, “Oh you great big Peeping Tom.”

“Yeah, alright, yay me. And I’m writing again. Slowly, but it isn’t as hard anymore. I guess you could say he’s my, oh God, this is so embarrassing.” With his hand clutched over his face, he mumbled out the words rapid fire quick, like ripping off a bandaid. “He’s my muse. Don’t you dare say a word, Jakob!” Jensen snapped pre-emptively, watching as Jakob closed his mouth with a smirk. He gave an amiable ‘as you were’ gesture. Jensen didn’t trust it and eyed Jakob warily. Jakob blinked at him and Jensen rolled his eyes.

“ _Anyway_ , so yesterday, he pretty much sliced his hand open or something and came to my door. He asked for a lift to the hospital and I gave him one, collected him a few hours later and then put him to bed. He was wacked out on painkillers.” Jensen walked out from behind the counter, over to the shelves of books and began rearranging things that didn’t actually need re-arranging.

“And,” Jakob prompted.

“And, what?” Jensen didn’t turn to face Jakob, fingers gliding over the smooth cover of the books in his hands.

“There is more to this, I know it.”

There it was. Jensen’s shoulders slumped and he was silent for a long moment, delaying the inevitable. He traced the lettering beneath his fingers, in much the same manner as he had done with the lettering carved into the dark granite of his father’s gravestone.

“I went to visit my father’s grave yesterday.” Jakob went quiet and still. Jensen looked over Jakob’s shoulder, didn’t want to see the sympathy in his friends eyes. “I just. There’s something there with him, with Jared. I write under D.S. Winchester and my dad thought I could do better, be better, be somebody while still being myself. But I thought it wasn’t worth it, changing all those people’s opinions about my writing, about the mistaken belief that it’s written by a woman, coming out to so many people. I was so afraid the potential backlash.” Jensen turned to face Jakob, taking in his solemn face. Jensen mouth opened but the words couldn’t come out, wouldn’t come out, trapped somewhere in his gut.

Jakob nodded. “You’re thinking he might be worth it and freaking out about it?”

Jensen nodded, chewed at his lip obsessively, wiping his sweaty palms against the denim covering his thighs. 

“Because you’re worried it might be too soon?”

“Jakob, of course I’m worried, because it is! I barely know the guy, except for what I’ve dreamed up in my head. I’ve only met him once. It is too soon!”

“Jensen, do you like him? Do you want to be with him? Or try to, at the very least?” Simple questions demand simple answers but they aren’t, they can’t be simple. Jensen didn’t have an answer. He was placing too much emphasis on a potential relationship. He didn’t even know if Jared was gay. One stoned pass does not qualify, no matter how much Jensen wishes it did.

“Jensen.”

“I don’t have an answer, Jakob! Yes, I want to try to be with him, I’m drawn to him in a way that I can’t explain.” Jensen sighed heavily. “I’m stressing out over a possibility. I just need to you tell me to get over myself and stop putting too much importance on stuff that isn’t there yet.”

“Alright.” Jakob clapped his hands together. “Well then, try. You should try. And if that’s what you want then who gives a flying fuck if it’s too sudden or too much. ”

Jensen could feel himself spread too thin, too may doors open, and anything could get through, all his secret passageways there for anyone to see. “Glad we could have this talk.”

“You know it, boss.” Jakob saluted but the smile across his lips was gentle.

“I’m going to bring in some of the new stock, put it away on the shelves.” Jensen edged his way into the back room and Jakob let him escape without saying another word.

~*~

Jensen left work early by Jakob’s orders. He’d protested, that he was the boss and that it wasn’t fair for just one person to take on the workload that needed two. Jakob had rolled his eyes, had said, “I am doing you a favour, you idiot, so you can call Jared and cook him dinner. Or something equally gay and romantic.”

Jensen had laughed, smacked a wet one on Jakob’s right cheek and had yelled as he dashed out the door, “Hope that was gay and romantic enough for ya!”

Now, standing outside Jared’s door, Jensen wondered what the fuck he thought he was doing. His nerves twisted up inside him so tight, he was surprised he could even walk. His legs felt like weak rubber. His breakfast counter had two plates set, a salad ready, as well as a bowl of mashed potato heaped with melting butter. There were two steaks in the fridge, ready and waiting to be slapped on the pan. Now all he needed was Jared.

“Fucking Christ, Ackles, get it together,” he mumbled under his breath. Jensen inhaled, held it and knocked once on the door before him, loud and sharp. He heard the clack of Sadie and Harley’s feet along the floorboards, small yips, and a soft shuffle before the door opened. Jared stood, hair sleep-tousled, and clothes rumpled. He looked very surprised to see Jensen standing before him, but smiled big and bright.

“Hey, Jensen. What’s up?”

Jensen smiled back, couldn’t help it, his cheeks twitched and pulled.

“Well, dinner, if you want it.”

Jared looked confused and Jensen helplessly admitted to himself, that yes, Jared was adorable, no use denying it.

“Okay, look, have you fed the dogs?”

Jared blinked, obviously still confused.“Erm, yeah, did it just now.”

“Awesome.” Jensen had to stop himself from clapping his hands together; spending all that time with Jakob was beginning to take its toll. He held a hand out to Jared. “Follow me. And close the door behind you.” 

Jared’s hand was warm and dry, bigger than Jensen’s, his hand enveloped. Jensen memorised the feel of it, the weight of it, what words fit best in Jared’s grip. He walked through his own door, pulling Jared along behind him. Jared stumbled inside and Jensen reluctantly let go of his hand, reaching behind Jared to close the door. He made his way into the kitchen. 

“Okay, so here’s the thing. You’ve got nine stitches in your hand and you probably can’t really cook anything, right?”

“Right.” Comprehension flickered across Jared’s face at the sight of the breakfast counter, his smile beginning to make a comeback. “You’re making me dinner?” Looked over at where Jensen stood, reaching into the refrigerator and gasped. “You’re making me steak?”

He bounded over and smothered Jensen in a hug, long arms wrapping around and round him. Jared tucked Jensen into his body, all warm heat and a musky, almost spicy smell. Jensen wrapped his free arm around Jared’s back, hand gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and breathed in. Jared leapt back, leaving Jensen suddenly cold, even though one hand lingered on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I stink. Should I go get changed?”

Jensen stared at Jared, non-pulsed. “What are you talking about? You smell really good.” He realised what he said and went a deep tomato red. He could feel it creep up his neck onto his cheekbones, all the way up to the tip of his ears. “Crap, sorry. I didn’t mean to come onto you.”

“You didn’t?” Jared’s mouth turned down at the corners. He dropped his hand. Jensen missed it almost immediately.

“If I did,” Jensen said carefully. “If I did, would that be a problem?”

Jared gave him a sly look, looking over at Jensen out of the corner of his eyes, a smirk gracing his pink lips. “Not a problem at all,” he murmured, inching closer, bringing a hand up to sweep along the flush on Jensen’s face, looked at Jensen, his hazel eyes heavy. He moved away smiling, delighted with himself, eyes dancing as Jensen flushed even deeper.

“How do you like your steak?” Jensen managed to ask, heart beating triple-time in his chest.

Jared sat down, carefully placed his bandaged left hand on the counter and replied with a grin, teeth bared and flashing, “Rare and bloody.” He closed his mouth with a loud snap.

“Just a regular, old carnivore.”

“You know it,” Jared replied.

“Well, as long as you don’t eat me.” Jensen turned to drizzle some olive oil on the heated pan, dropping the steak in.

Jared started coughing. Jensen peered over his shoulder to see Jared blushing. 

“You okay?”

Jared nodded. “I was just really tempted to turn that into something filthy.”

“Oh god, I am so glad you didn’t. That would have been awkward for the both of us.” 

Jared stuck his tongue out at Jensen. “I’ll have you know that my innuendos are the stuff of legend.” He sniffed, folding his arms. Jensen turned around fully, mirroring Jared.

“You do realise you’re going to have to say it now, don’t you? Just to let you know, I’ll be holding you to a very high standard. Best bring you’re A game.”

“Err, I was going to say ‘only if you ask real nice’, but I thought better of it.” Jared shrugged, abashed. Jensen burst out laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen gasped between laughs, “but that would have been awful.” 

Jared opened his mouth in rebuttal but ended up joining in, his laughter louder than Jensen’s echoing around the kitchen, making its way into all the nooks and crannies, filling every empty space. Jensen kept smiling, flipped the steak, a few minutes later serving it to Jared. “You can start eating, it’s fine, mine will only take five minutes, probably less.”

Jared murmured his thanks and heaped his plate high with potato and salad. There was a silence between them, not awkward, but natural, an easiness to it. Jensen hummed lightly under his breath, a nonsensical tune he just made up on the spot, no rhyme or rhythm to it. His steak finally done, he turned to sit down facing Jared, only to catch him staring mutinously at his steak, a startling anger in his eyes.

“What’s up?” Jensen asked and Jared slumped a little.

“I hate this, hate it so much. I can’t even cut my own steak.”

Jensen wanted to knock his head against the counter at his own stupidity. “Ah fuck, I’m sorry. Here, I’ll cut it up for you, if you want.”

Jared glared at his steak, a different kind of heat now, so angry. “It’s not really your fault, I just feel like such a child. Couldn’t even cut tomatoes by myself.” He looked up with a self-recriminating amirk. His face softened then, slowly, under Jensen’s gaze. “If you wouldn’t mind, thanks, Jen.”

His name shortened like that wasn’t unusual, but the way Jared said it, with a subtle reverence, made Jensen’s heart stop, skip a beat and restart.

“It’s not a problem.” Jensen went over, cut up the steak quickly, not want to prolong Jared’s embarrassment. He went back to his seat and they ate quietly for a while, the silence eventually broken by Jared.

“This is really good. The steak is particularly awesome.” Jared sighed happily, petting his stomach. “I really love steak.”

“What good Texas boy doesn’t? And thanks. It does taste quite delicious, if I do say so myself.” Jensen grinned over at Jared, got a grin in return. With that they began talking, laughing, joking across the table, Jared’s black hole of a stomach eating Jensen out of house and home. Soon, after everything was finished and put away, Jensen grabbed two beers, popped the lids into the sink and gave one to Jared, motioning him to sit down on the couch. They both sat down, Jensen turned so he was facing Jared, one leg crossed over the other, in contrast to the way Jared was splayed across the seat, limbs everywhere.

Jensen took a swig of beer and swallowed, watching Jared watching him as he licked his lips, feeling something thrum in the air.

“When did you move into the apartment across the way?”

Jared looked up from Jensen’s mouth to his eyes, a teasing glint in his own. “What, you don’t know? I thought you would have, for all your staring out the window.”

Jensen blushed, again, goddammit, but replied with a loose, “Speak for yourself, you stalker.”

Jared looked over at Jensen, completely unapologetic, smiled slightly and shrugged. “I moved in the middle of May, sort of an impulsive thing, I guess.”

Looking over at Jared, something tugged at Jensen, at the way Jared wouldn’t really meet his eyes, that told him not to pry, not to push but he couldn’t help it. A curiosity filled him

“What do you mean, impulsive?” he asked.

Jared sighed, picked at the label on his beer bottle. “I finished college beginning of May, Masters in engineering, full honours. Mom and Dad were so proud.” He scoffed. “Until they found me making out with another graduate, a guy from my class, just a fling, nothing serious, you know? I was being young and foolish. They weren’t quite so proud of that.” Jared took a long pull of beer, a sour twist to his mouth. “It was a stupid decision, I admit it, and I packed up and left. I got as far as my savings could get me, ended up here. S’not a bad place.” He threw a wobbling smile at Jensen. “I’m working at a local shelter, over on Columbia Drive, although it might as well be volunteering, given what I’m being paid. Plus, I’ve managed to snag an interview over at Samsung Telecommunications in a few weeks. I’m busy, getting somewhere, have a pretty face to look at.” The cheeriness of the words was waxy, well-rehearsed and too stiff.

“Jared,” Jensen said softly. 

Jared shook his head, a denial and a refusal. “Don’t. I’m doing alright, Jen, I swear, don’t you worry about little old me. Plenty of people have shitty parents and worse. I’m not that special.”

Jared wouldn’t look at him and Jensen had done that, had pushed Jared. There was a precipice coming up in front of him and he could either turn around, go back the way he came, or keep on going, take a running leap and jump. Jensen took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“My Dad was killed seven months ago. He was run over by a truck, of all things.” Jensen looked over at Jared, saw the heartbreak reflected in his eyes and ached to make it better.

“I am doing alright, just barely.” Jensen shook his head, took a swallow of beer. “But a few months ago, a few weeks ago? Yeah, not so much.” He stared unseeing past Jared, eyes unfocused, looking at the shelves of books on the opposite wall. “I know it’s not really the same thing but it is okay not be okay, you know? You don’t have to pretend, especially around people who care about you. And when people care, they worry about you. You can’t stop that either. So I’m going to worry about you, if that’s alright.” He looked back over at Jared, saw a wet sheen in his eyes and didn’t know what to do with that, numbed for so long and now so unsure. But he reached out a hand anyway, curled it over the hand Jared had resting on his thigh. Jared rattled out an unsteady exhale and turned his hand over, threaded his fingers through Jensen’s and held on tight.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Jen.”

“I know you are. I’m sorry, too.” Jensen squeezed the hand holding his, took another swallow of beer and waited for a joke or a laugh from Jared, knew him enough now that this was how he operated, push through everything too quickly and cover it with humour. That was perfectly fine with Jensen. He loved Jared’s laughter, couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Okay, enough of that. Glad we’ve covered the sharing and caring portion of this evening’s entertainment, time to move on. More beer?” With a gentle squeeze, Jared released Jensen’s hand and Jensen let him go. He needed a moment to himself too, just make sure everything was in its proper place. And he wouldn’t deny himself a second beer.

When Jared came back with two fresh beers, he immediately handed one to Jensen but didn’t go to sit down, instead making his way other the book shelves along the other wall. It was a large bookcase that Jensen had custom built to fit this room with a section cut out for his 48” plasma screen TV. He watched Jared run the pinkie finger of his left-hand down the spine of a book, his beer clutched in his right, a soft smile on his face. It was the little things in life, Jensen mused.

“Yes, before you ask, I am a book lover.” Jensen let out a light laugh at the guilty look on Jared’s face, like he had been caught stuffing his face with cookies from the ‘hidden’ cookie jar. Which, Jensen had no doubt, had occurred at some point during Jared’s childhood. “I own a bookstore,” he said. “It’s about ten minutes down the road from here.” 

“You like working there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jensen picked at the label of his beer.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but aren’t you a little young to have your own independent bookstore?” Jared asked, pulling a book out and leafing through it, before putting it back.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He gave Jared a nostalgic smile. “It was my Dad’s. He left it to me. It’s one of the reasons why I like it there.”

Jared gave him a smile back, gentle, sweet, caring and Jensen felt buoyed up by it.

“It must be incredible, owning your own store, being your own boss,” Jared murmured, taking a swig of beer. Jensen wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer but nodded when Jared turned to look at him for confirmation. Jared looked like he was skimming through the titles, walking along, eyes tracing each row for familiar names, familiar titles. He stopped suddenly and Jensen squirmed against the soft leather of the couch, drank heavily from his bottle of beer, knew where he was looking. Jensen had organised his books by genre and then in alphabetical order but sometimes by group if he so chose. Anal, yes, no doubt about it, but effective too, especially when in need of keeping busy.

“You have a whole section devoted to _lesbian_ poetry?” Jared exclaimed, incredulous, sending startled, disbelieving eyes Jensen’s way. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

Jensen laughed, a little weakly. “Nope, not kidding you.

Jared peered closer. “Adrianne Rich, Elizabeth Bishop, Becky Birtha, what the hell, Jensen? This is not what I expected to be sitting on your shelves.”

“Why?”

“Well, because they hate men, don’t they? ”

“And?” Jensen was getting a little bit agitated, his grip around the bottle tightening.

Jared rolled his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a man.”

“Just because they have something negative to say about men, doesn’t mean they hate every single man. And even if they did, aren’t they justified?” Jensen could only take so much, downing the rest of his beer before he spoke. “Okay, look, poetry is my passion. I love it, I am inspired by it, by _all_ of it. I am devoted to it completely – the intricate combination of words and rhythm can be incredible. To pigeon-hole anyone because of how they express themselves or because of their feminist ideologies is close-minded. Rich has an amazing depth, a richness of tone; Bishop has an awareness of injust societal standards and her attention to detail is breath-taking.” Jensen stood up, gestured at his collection, at the great expanse of words collected in his living room, beautiful words that he loved, and despaired of, when his own were inadequate. “Here lies what I love and to belittle it is to belittle me.”

Jared stared back at him, clearly shocked, yes, but amused too, and Jensen felt his own lips quirk upwards, a small grin, mischievous and wily. 

“So, how long have you been practising that speech?”

Jensen arched an eyebrow. “You will never know.” He was definitely amused now. How could he not be, at the mirth so clear across Jared’s own face, where it belonged? It made Jared come alive, whole and perfect. 

His own words echoed in his head as he reached for his empty beer bottles by the couch and he itched for a pen, itched to sit down at his desk and write new words now, for this man, no longer the Runner but Jared, just Jared, only Jared, but wholly himself.

_\-- so alive and laughing still, smile so wide  
It is too big for his face and fills up the now too-full world -- _

Jared’s hands continued to wander along the spines of Jensen’s books, getting closer and closer. Jensen’s heart was in his throat.

“Another beer?” he asked, as a distraction, and Jared shook his head. Jensen went painfully still as Jared grabbed a book of the shelf with a triumphant noise. Jensen panicked.

“I’m going to get some water.” He made a quick getaway into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water. “You’ll be fine,” he told himself. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before going back into the other room. Jared was sitting back on the couch, Jensen’s book open on his lap.

“Got you a glass of water.” 

“Thanks,” Jared said, not looking up. Jensen put the glasses on the coffee table, the shaking of his hands barely perceptible.

Jensen sat down beside Jared. “What are you reading?” He managed to keep his voice level and only mildly interested.

Jared looked up. “I took a few modules in English Lit, my Mom is an English teacher.” He shrugged, gave a half-smile. “I’ve always really loved reading, fiction, biographies, poetry. Don’t look so shocked!” Jensen didn’t know what he looked like, he was trying not to throw up! He reached for his glass and took a nervous sip, hoping it would settle his stomach. His feet were twitching on the floor. Jensen couldn’t decide how we wanted to sit. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, crossed his ankles. 

“You like Winchester’s stuff?” Jensen hoped that Jared didn’t hear the hoarseness of his voice. Jared didn’t look up from the page, just nodded, said, “Yeah, I really love his poetry, there’s an honesty to it, you know?” Jensen looked away from Jared, flushing at his unbeknownst praise. He wanted to scream and shout. His crossed his legs again, pressed his hands together. He was going to be doing cartwheels across the room or puking on the floor if he didn’t get it together. 

“So you think Winchester is a guy? A gay guy? Not a woman, as most people seem to think?” Jensen was amazed, overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. His cheeks were still flushed. Jared _got it_ and Jensen wanted to kiss him for it. “Why?”

Jared looked up, tapped his lips with the fingers of his right hand, a rolling motion that Jensen could not look away from. His eyes found Jensen’s and the intensity in them stunned him. 

“I think he’s gay because I relate to some of these poems so well, so entirely. Whatever the gender of the person who wrote ‘This’, they were in college, they were young, no disagreements there. It’s obvious, so I relate to that, definitely.” Jared sighed, looked away from Jensen, tugged gently on a strand of hair behind his ear. “But it’s the way Winchester approaches his feelings, like they could be dangerous, could blow up in his face. The way he feels like if the world knew, there’s a chance he would be shunned and looked down upon. _That_ is what I relate to the most. And it’s not something a straight girl would question. Question her taste in guys, sure, but not the fact that she is _attracted_ to guys.” Jensen watched, beer in his hand momentarily forgotten, as Jared curled his hands in his lap, cradled the injured left one with his right. “The idea that some people would view it as a sin, or as disgusting, something shameful.” 

Jared looked up at Jensen and Jensen felt nothing but wonder at this man in front of him, how he could read and interpret what Jensen had written nearly six years ago so well, so perfectly. He wanted to shed every skin, every barrier he hid behind, say, _that’s me. You’ve found me._ But Jensen couldn’t, far too aware of Jared’s fragility in this moment, the possibility that Jared would not believe him. And he couldn’t take that chance, not yet. It was still too soon. He couldn’t deny that part of him believed that it always would be.

“This book means a lot to me.”

Jensen was moved, a crest of emotion making his eyes itch. “I can tell.” He shifted towards Jared. Jared’s eyes flicked up to his, a small catch in his breath at Jensen’s movement. “You can borrow it if you want.” 

“Thanks, but I do have my own.” Jared snorted. “It’s in really crappy condition, actually, torn pages worn thin and the cover is falling apart.” He leaned forward, hesitantly putting a light hand on Jensen’s knee. When Jensen didn’t move away, Jared pressed down, a heavy weight that soothed Jensen, a low hum thrumming through him. It gave him the confidence to put his own hand on top of Jared’s. “I read a poem from it just about every day, is that weird?” Jared murmured. Jensen shook his head. He brought a hand up to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen in front of Jared’s too-bright eyes, terrified that it would be knocked aside. It wasn’t.

“It’s not weird at all, not to me.” And Jensen cupped his hand around Jared’s chin. His head was floating and his heart was in his throat. His teeth chattered a little, from nerves and adrenaline. Jared’s hand moved up Jensen’s thigh, the other letting go off the book to rest on Jensen’s neck. Jensen shivered.

“Is this alright?” Jared asked, voice a whisper. 

“Yes.” Jensen’s voice was just as soft. Jared’s thumb moved across his neck and Jensen’s his eyes fluttering closed.

“Can I kiss you?” Jared’s breath moved across his lips. Jensen barely nodded before Jared was pulling him in for kiss, closed lips barely brushing, a chaste thing, meant to reassure, not incite. It was overwhelming, so much after such a long time of nothing. When Jensen moved back, Jared let out a shaky breath.

“Thank God,” Jared whispered.

Jensen let out a small laugh, little more than a puff of air. He tentatively brought Jared’s lips back to his and Jared turned it into a longer kiss this time, slow catch and drag, sending heat spiralling through Jensen. Jared opened his mouth, let his tongue reach out, swipe across Jensen’s lower lip, and he shuddered, pressed harder against Jared, feeling the press of teeth behind his soft pink lips, that sweet give of flesh. Jared nipped at Jensen’s lower lip, dragged his tongue along it, sucked on it gently. Jensen jerked forwards, pushing Jared backwards. He caught the wrist of Jared’s injured hand and placing it high on the back of the couch.

“Don’t want you to hurt it,” he said lowly, right into Jared’s ear. He was surprised by the full body shudder his words incited, by Jared’s quiet moan. He paused, looking down at Jared and memorised the dazed look on Jared’s face, how wanted it made Jensen feel. He breathed, slid his hips against Jared’s, the friction a sweet burn.

Jared’s hips jerked and he let out the sweetest little sounds, almost hurt noises, but better, so much better. Jensen mouthed along Jared’s jaw, felt the beginnings of stubble, a tingle across his lips, found his mouth and kissed it. He licked inside, learning from Jared, and slowly slid his tongue against Jared’s, a smooth slip and glide. He pulled back, looked down at Jared, spread out beneath him, that flush high on his cheekbones and Jensen gave into it, licked along the edge of it, felt the heat beneath the skin, the taste sweet and intense. Jared groaned, a loud sound in the otherwise quiet room, no other noise but the rustle of the clothes as they moved against each other.

Jensen jerked back at the sound, startled. He was used to quiet sounds, furtive movements in the dark. The sun hadn’t set yet and the room was too bright. Jared slid his uninjured hand up Jensen’s thighs and around to cup his ass, squeezing. Jensen let out a nervous laugh. Jared frowned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, perfect. Just.” Jensen cleared his throat. He reached back for Jared’s hand and moved it up to his waist.

“Ah.” Jared smiled softly up at Jensen. “So you’re a ‘not until after the third date’ kinda guy, then.”

Jensen shrugged, leaning down to give Jared a quick peck. “Something like that. You wanna watch a movie?”

Jared moved to hold Jensen’s hand. Jensen couldn’t hide his blush. “Or we can do whatever you want, but I don’t think. Ummm.”

“It’s okay. As long as I get to hold your hand and surprise you with kisses, I think I’ll be okay.” Jared leaned up and kissed both of Jensen’s cheeks, then his lips. They kissed gently for a few quiet moments. Jensen felt his heart flutter and turn over. 

“Perfect,” he murmured.

He slid off Jared’s lap and onto the couch, reached for the remote, and tucked himself under Jared’s outstretched arm.

Jared pressed his lips against Jensen’s temple. “I think so too.”

They watched the movie in silence, broken only by soft murmurs and softer kissing. Jensen felt overly warm the whole time, heated by the press of Jared’s thigh against his, by the arm draped over his shoulders. He was cocooned by Jared and he found himself leaning more into Jared, relaxed. He felt safe. He was even disappointed when the movie ended. He heaved himself up as soon as the credits rolled, bringing the empty beer bottles and glasses into the kitchen.

“Do you need help clearing up?”

Jensen jumped at the sound of Jared’s voice coming from behind him. When he turned to look at him, his arms were folded as he leaned against the wall.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” 

“Guess I should be going then.”

Jensen checked his watch. It was nearly midnight. “Huh,” he said. “I guess so.” He walked Jared to the door and hated that things had become a little bit awkward. He swallowed, and pressed Jared up against the door, kissed him with a passion that startled him. For long moments, he lost himself chasing Jared’s tongue. They parted with a slick popping sound, both of them slightly out of breath. Jared pulled him back in and kissed him harder, and longer. Jensen lost time. 

“C’mon, Jared.,” Jensen eventually said, pulling back. “We both have to get up early for work in the morning.” He poked Jared in the chest. “And someone has to go for a run.” 

“Urgh, why must you be so right?” Jared whined, pouting. He flopped forward, shoving his face in the space between Jensen’s neck and shoulders. Jensen laughed.

“If I tell you that we can do this again tomorrow, same time, same place, will you leave me alone?”

Jared lifted his head. “Promise?” He blinked owlishly.

“Yes, now get out, you idiot.” Jensen opened the door and shoved Jared through it.

“The romance is dead already,” Jared sighed dramatically.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six.”

Jared darted forward and kissed him quickly, there and gone again, leaving Jensen frozen. 

“See you at six.” He bounded across the hall and with one last wave, disappeared into his apartment. Jensen slumped against his doorframe, disbelieving. He brought his hand up to his mouth and smiled.

~*~

The next day passed in a blur. When he arrived into work, Jakob took one look at him and started crowing. Jensen couldn’t say anything back, didn’t want to jinx it. He wanted to keep it to himself for a little while. Jakob left him alone after that and Jensen went into the back office, too spaced out to be dealing with customers. His hands shook occasionally. His face was constantly flushed. He felt the phantom weight of Jared’s arm around his shoulder, the press of him against his thigh.

He worried about what he should make for dinner, given Jared’s injured hand. He stopped off to grab two frozen pizzas and shoved them into the oven as soon as he got it. He had just rushed into the bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt when there was a knock at the door. Pulling his tee over his head, Jensen broke into a grin.

Stumbling up the door, he buttoned up his jeans. He ran a hand through his hair and breathed, unlocking the pieces of himself he hid away. When he opened the door, Jared immediately moved up close to Jensen.

“Hi,” he said, sounding breathless.

“Hi.” Jensen cleared his throat. “C’mon in.” Jared shuffled inside and Jensen closed the door behind him. “Dinner is pizza tonight, hope that’s okay?”

“More than.” Jared plopped the beers he brought onto the coffee table. Jensen hadn’t even noticed. “Do I not get a ‘hello’ kiss?” He cocked his head to the side, smiling slightly uncertainly, his hands held behind his back. Jensen felt a rush of fondness. It gave him the confidence to get closer, to wrap his arms around Jared’s wide shoulders. He leaned up, kissed him. Jared’s arms came up to Jensen’s waist as they kissed, chaste, with no tongue. Jared was pressed up all around Jensen and he couldn’t get enough of it. He’d never had this before, this consuming warmth, the desire to get lost in it. He’d come close once and it had given him insecurity, a broken heart, and a number one bestseller. 

The timer on the oven went off just as Jared’s hand began to move lower. Jensen jumped back, a little startled. He looked up at Jared. This close, Jensen could see the bags under his eyes. He brought a hand up to gently touch Jared’s cheek.

“I think we might just have dinner and then call it a night, you look exhausted.”

Jared shrugged. He was smiling. “Eh, I’ve had less sleep.”

“Uh-huh. What time did you get up this morning to go for a run?” 

“What, you don’t know?”

“I was sleeping.” Jensen poked Jared. “Unlike someone I could mention.”

“The pizza is going to burn, Jensen.”

“Shit!” Jensen ran into the kitchen, pulling open the oven and turning it off. The pizza wasn’t burnt, per say, but the cheese on top was brown. It could have been cooked less. Jensen sighed. He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and slid the pizzas on. He sliced them up and brought them into the other room, where Jared was already on the couch with an open beer bottle in hand.

“The pizzas are a little bit well done,” Jensen said. He eyed the beer on the coffee table. There was a lot of it there. “Are we supposed to be drinking all that?”

“What? No, no! I brought extra to replace the ones we had last night. It was only fair, you’re providing the food.” Jared had gone a little red. Jensen wanted to kiss him. “And the pizza looks fine.”

Jensen put the pizzas down, grabbing a slice as he sat down beside Jared, all but shoving it in his mouth. Jared reached for one as well and for a little while they ate in comfortable silence. The more pizza they ate, the closer Jared moved to Jensen, until eventually, he put his arm over Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen sighed happily and snuggled a little closer.

“Pizza and cuddles,” Jared said softly. “What more could a guy ask for?”

“I’m sure there’s a game on.” He nudged Jared. “Pass me a beer?” He didn’t want to leave this snug little space he’d found for himself.

“You truly know the way to a man’s heart.” Jared grabbed the remote while he passed the beer over. Jensen was quiet as he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. He was content. It was a good evening, one of the best, and he felt an ache in his chest unravel, felt it drift away. Jared was quiet, murmuring sleepily at the game. Jensen let him doze against his shoulder possibly longer than he should have. Eventually he shook Jared awake.

“C’mon, Jared, up ya get.” Jensen gave him a gentle shake and Jared jerked, blinking slowly.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, yawning. He stretched his arms over his head. Jensen took that as his cue to stand up. He offered a hand up and Jared grabbed it, pulling himself to standing. He went in for a hug and Jensen, surprised, took a second to return it.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” Jared’s voice was muffled.

“I guess you’ll have to make it up to me.” The longer Jared touched him, the more his affection and feelings surrounded Jensen, the more confident Jensen felt in returning it. Jared hummed and rubbed his nose along Jensen’s neck, moving upwards to skim his mouth along Jensen’s jaw. Jensen shivered. Jared rubbed his lips across his slowly, ever so softly, until Jensen opened his mouth with a gasp. Jared took advantage of the opening and nipped at Jensen’s lower lip, kissing him slowly, deeply. Jensen felt as if he was vibrating, buzzing beneath his skin. He brought a hand up to curl into Jared’s hair and Jared made a little happy noise. Jensen tugged and that brought out a small moan. Jared pressed his body close into Jensen’s, slotting their hips together, placing a leg between Jensen’s thighs. Jensen went hot all over, melted into Jared. He was getting hard. Jared was already there. Jared was thrusting his tongue into his mouth, and Jensen surprised himself by skimming his other hand down Jared’s back, lower and lower until he could shove it under the top, get his fingers on Jared’s hot skin.  
The TV was still on but he couldn’t hear it over their heavy breathing and the slick sounds of their mouths meeting. Jared kept making these noises and they lit Jensen up. He realised that they were moving against each other slowly, an almost dance. 

Jensen wanted to get closer. He didn’t want to stop. He moved his hips against Jared and gasped at the burst of sweet friction, at Jared grinding back. Jared pulled back, let his hand drift down to Jensen’s ass and squeezed. This time, Jensen let it stay there.

“God, Jared,” he moaned. Jared squeezed harder and Jensen widened his legs. Jared pressed them into the space behind Jensen’s balls. He panted against Jared’s neck, shuddering. He could feel the sweat beginning to gather on Jared’s lower back.

“Fuck. Jesus fuck.” Jared’s voice was hoarse and Jensen couldn’t open his eyes, lost in the pressure and pleasure and friction. He was going to come in his jeans and he didn’t even care. 

“I’m going to come,” he said. He pulled Jared’s head back so he could place a sucking, bruising kiss at the base of Jared’s throat. He shoved his hips harder against Jared, rubbed down against his thigh. Pleasure pooled in his lower spine. He was so _close_.

“That’s it, come for me. God,” Jared groaned. He rubbed hard circles into that sweet spot and Jensen was gone, coming in hard jerks, panting harsh and frenzied. His mind went blank as white hit pleasure zinged through him. He bit down on Jared’s neck and felt Jared spasm in his arms, letting out a long moan. He pulled back to watch Jared come, shivering with aftershocks, and found Jared already looking at him, skin flushed, eyes dark and heated. Jensen began to blush and pull away, feeling ridiculous. Jared reeled him back him, kissed him long and wet and deep. They pressed up against each other, grinding slowly as they came down. Eventually they parted, breathing heavily.

“That,” Jared said, “that was amazing.”

Jensen grinned, fierce and bright. “Hell yeah.” Then he winced at the pull of come in his boxers. “Although I’m going to have clean this mess.”

Jared moved back a step and made a face. He started to rearrange himself and then grimaced. “Yeah, I’m going to need a shower.” He gave Jensen a quick kiss. Then another one. And another one. Jensen let him. Jared moved closer, didn’t stop kissing him. Jensen had never felt so wanted.

“So, I have a suggestion,” Jared said, eventually pulling himself away from Jensen’s lips. Jensen couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah?”

Jared nodded. “Yup. I’m taking you out to breakfast this weekend. Does Sunday suit?”

“That sounds really good.” Jensen was smiling. He was never going to stop smiling.

“Perfect.” He gave Jensen one last kiss before moving to the door. “I’m going to have to go before my dick is permanently glued to my boxers.” He blew Jensen a kiss as he opened the door. Jensen laughed fondly. And then Jared was gone.

Jensen’s apartment was suddenly, almost overwhelmingly, quiet.

~*~

After his shower, his skin still tingling from orgasm and lips still swollen from kisses, he was sitting at his desk, pen gliding smoothly and freely over lined paper, when his agent called.

“Jensen,” Robert called down the phone, voice jovial but not really trying; he had no expectations, not after seven months of nothing. “A new instalment for Winchester coming soon?”

Jensen grinned, gazing out at the setting sun outside his window. “Actually, yes.” His grinned widened as he heard the shocked and disbelieving ‘Really?’ from Robert.

“Yup. Sitting at my desk right now, working on something new.”

“This is,” Robert spluttered, relieved, yes, but also anticipatory. “This is fantastic news, Jensen. Absolutely brilliant. Excellent.”

“Yuh-uh.” Jensen kicked his feet up onto his desk, feeling a freedom he hadn’t in years, that stone in his gut dissolving away, minute by minute. “I have a proposition for you, though. Well, perhaps more like a demand.”

“Oh.” Robert’s voice was flat, a staccato sound.

“I want to drop the pseudonym, use my real name. I think it might be time.”

“Are you sure? You went to great pains to keep your real identity secret.”

“Think about it, Robert. It would create a greater interest in my next publication, the unveiling of the mysterious D.S. Winchester. I would get more reviews. More reviews and greater interest equals bigger sales, right?”

“That’s all well and good, Jensen, but what about the fact you’ll be outing yourself and D.S. Winchester as gay? I’m sorry, but gay literature is still such a niche market.” Jensen closed his eyes and counted to ten. He breathed in and out slowly before he replied.

“When you first decided to publish my work, you knew that it was gay literature. I changed my name at the last minute. I understand that the perception of me being a woman has meant that my work has sold better than expected, but I am no longer willing to hide behind that name,” Jensen spoke with forced calm while his hand tightened around the phone. “I also understand that there may be a dip in sales, but that can be made up by the fact that I will be revealing my identity.”

Robert cleared his throat. Jensen could hear the rustling of papers. “Very well, then, Mr. Ackles. But may I say, on your own head be it.”

“Why, thank you so much for your endless words of encouragement,” Jensen said dryly.

“Yes, alright,” Robert sighed. “No need to be so testy. I’ll run up some preliminary stats and send out some feelers. Are you sure this is the way you want to go?”

Jensen thought about being open, being free, being acknowledged for who he was. He thought of Jared’s smile and his laughter, how his voice slurred when he got sleepy. He remembered the way Jared had spoken so intelligently of Jensen’s poetry, of his innate understanding. Jensen imagined his father looking on proudly and felt a gentle push forward.

“Yes,” Jensen said. “Absolutely.”

~*~

**PART THREE**

> **Jared**

The following Sunday, Jared took Jensen out to brunch, as he promised, as a thank you. His hand was no longer in a sling, and even though it ached, he was able to cut up his pancakes himself.

“Look, Ma!” Jared pointed at his pancakes with his knife in his left hands, tongue caught between his teeth. Jensen laughed.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, smiling. Jared felt a warm flush from head to toe, felt it settle in his chest. He wanted to keep it there. He slid his foot against Jensen’s under the table, rubbed the back of Jensen’s calf. He delighted in the light pink blush that dusted Jensen’s cheeks. There was some maple syrup caught on the corner of his lips and Jared leaned forward, wiped it away and licked it off his thumb. The heat in Jensen’s eyes made him shudder, a promise that spoke of later. 

Jared couldn’t wait.

~*~

Sunday became part of their routine. It became their day, just the two of them and the dogs. Always the same diner in town, pancakes with maple syrup. They played footsie and it was simple and affectionate. It felt good to have that kind of open affection, to have someone so delighted in being there with him. Jensen laughed at his jokes and listened when he had something to say. Jared had run away and arrived in a place where someone saw him for who he was, who didn’t judge him for it. It hurt, but only in the best of ways, pins and needles before you got the feeling back in your feet and when you took that first step, it always felt like you were walking for the first time.

Afterwards, with bellies full and their hearts not far behind, Jared and Jensen would take the dogs to the local park, watch Harley run in circles, chasing his own tail while Sadie waited patiently for Jared to throw the ball she knew he had in one of his pockets. They ran the dogs ragged, flopping down on the grass with them, out of breath and laughing. Jared held Jensen’s hand, thumb rubbing soothingly across the skin beneath it when Jensen got anxious and fidgety. Propped up on his elbows, Jared would lean over and pepper kisses across Jensen’s cheeks until he ended up smiling and slapping at Jared’s shoulders. Sometimes, Jared could get away with tugging Jensen to his feet and pulling him behind a bush or a tree where they made out like teenagers, getting high off the thrill of maybe getting caught. 

Hours later, they would end up at Jensen’s and cook their dinner together, eating in front of the television as often as not. The night ended in cuddles, their favourite position of Jensen tucked under Jared’s arm, pressed up tight, and Jared heading back to his apartment, feeding the dogs and crashing in his own bed. 

It was their routine. 

Sometimes, on those Sundays – but not that often, Jared couldn’t complain – Jensen opened the door with red-rimmed eyes and a face pale with a hangover. Jared felt a cold weight sink in his stomach even before Jensen opened his mouth.

“Out with my friends last night,” he said. He leaned heavily against the door frame. “Way too hung over to do anything right now. And the idea of food.” Jensen began to look at little green around the edges.

“No problems, man.” Jared shrugged. His fingers twitched against his thigh and he bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “Maybe dinner later, then, if you’re feeling up to it?”

Jensen nodded, moaning a little at the movement and shuffled like a zombie back into his apartment. Jared went back into his apartment, flopping on the couch while the dogs used him like a climbing frame. Jensen never made mention of Jared meeting these friends, not once. That was fine, he thought, scratching Harley’s neck. They weren’t even two months into this thing of theirs, and Jared wasn’t going to push. He didn’t want to ruin it by bulldozing in. Besides, Jared was still flying high from the thrill of it all. He got kisses in the morning and in the evening after eating dinner together, sometimes more, and then Sunday was their day just for themselves, even if it got side-tracked. 

It made life predictable. Jared knew what the plan was every week but he wanted to fly by the seat of his pants, jump headlong into things and question it all later. But Jensen needed that predictability. He needed structure, needed to keep busy. He created this new routine around Jared, with Jared. Jared kept up with it happily, a sense of belonging pervading everything. He had a sense that things were finally going his way. He couldn’t quite squash the hope that this was his happy ending. 

On Fridays, Jensen visited his father’s grave, sometimes with his mother, sometimes not. Jared was never asked to come but never asked to be included. He didn’t want to intrude. Jared enforced that distance, so that Jensen wouldn’t ask about Jared, about –

Jared stood up, Harley grunting in indignation as being so abruptly losing his pillow. Jared grabbed himself a glass of water. He tapped his fingernails against the glass. He put it down, and braced himself on the counter.

The dark bags Jensen had under his eyes when Jared first met him became lighter, his hunched shoulders smoothed out. He gave smiles more freely and more frequently. When those smiles were directed at him, Jared basked in their glow. Jensen was moving on, patching up the wound, letting it heal, and Jared loved Jensen for that, for his ability to move forward. 

Jared scrubbed his hand through his hair. He was envious because Jared couldn’t do it himself.

He couldn’t do it because he still woke up in cold sweats most mornings. There were emails he hadn’t read, phone calls and texts he never answered. He figured, when he left home, clean break. Cut out the infection before it spreads. Sure, he was left with a severed limb. He could feel its phantom moving, but he was still walking. Sometimes, he shouted loud enough that Harley whined at him and Sadie refused to talk to him. 

Jared pulled at his hair. He was wound tight with tension that never seemed to disappear completely. He often stood with fists clenched at his sides or slammed his feet into the pavement on his runs, trying to out-run his anger.

But he had a routine. He had Jensen. He would get over himself.

~*~

Jared’s big interview at Samsung Telecommunications was on Friday morning and he was so nervous, palms sweating, knees jumping, nerves jittering. It was too early to get a good luck kiss from Jensen, although he’d gotten one a few days before, when he told Jensen the interview was coming up.

Jared loved working at the shelter, he did, the people he worked with were fantastic. Lucy made him laugh, Matt’s silent company helped him work through things, and Charles had no time for any bullshit Jared might have tried to spew. But the job did not pay well. It might as well have been a volunteer position, and his savings were running out. He needed the job at Samsung. Imagine his shock when not a few hours after, during his lunch break, he had received a call, telling him he had a second interview, that it was predominately a formality. Samsung loved him, they wanted him. 

He ran shouting into the office at the shelter, picking up Lucy and swinging her around. She was the receptionist and from the first day she had made a point of getting to know Jared.

She slapped him across the shoulders. “Put me down, you giant oaf,” she yelled. Charlie and Matt, Jared’s other two co-workers, came running in at the commotion.

Jared dropped Lucy to the floor and laughed at the cross look she gave him. “I got a second interview! I basically have it in the bag!”

The small office descended into chaos, all three of them telling him congratulations, slapping him on the back. The dogs in the kennels became howling along and, after a light punch to the shoulder and a smile, Matt and Charlie went to take care of it, leaving Lucy and Jared behind.

Lucy’s red hair had unravelled somewhat and her grey eyes twinkled. “I am taking you out to dinner to celebrate.”

Jared shook his head. “You shouldn’t, honestly, Luce –”

“Ah!” Lucy held up a hand. “Do not even say it.”

Dinner was great, steaks and a cold beer, couldn’t beat it, but when she invited him out to drinks on the Saturday, he declined. She looked at him knowingly.

“Don’t want to mess up your Sundays, huh.” 

He nodded and blushed. She pecked him on the cheek.

“I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

It wasn’t that early on that Sunday morning when Jared crossed the hallway to knock on Jensen’s door, but early enough that he still got no reply. He waited for several long minutes. Knocked again and still nothing. He pressed his ear against the door and could hear no movement. Disappointment had his breath catching a little in his throat as he wandered back into his apartment. Jared sent one text, then two, and still received no answer.

“Well, shit.” Jared’s voice was too loud, and Sadie yipped. “Sorry, girl,” he said soothingly as he leaned down to scratch her behind the ears. Harley woofed from the couch, indignant of the fact that Sadie had gotten neck scritches and he hadn’t. Jared managed a small chuckle.

“All right, all right, plenty of me to go around, big fella.”

He dropped down onto the couch and Harley flopped down over his thighs, whining pitifully. 

“You think you’re so clever, doncha, boy?” 

Harley was soon satisfied. Sadie lay down by Jared’s feet. He felt comforted by their presence, tightness in his shoulders unwinding. 

“He was just out with his friends last night, ain’t that right?” he said to the dogs. Their ears twitched and Jared sighed. “Out having fun and getting drunk, like I shoulda been.”

His phone beeped. As he pulled it from his pocket, his heart started hammering in his chest. Jared licked his lips, swallowed, but the text wasn’t from Jensen. He let himself sink back into the couch, Harley snuffling on his lap from the movement. Jared sighed.

_misd u lst nite, shuda com out! disapntd, my yung padawan :P_

Jared huffed a light laugh at the text from Lucy. Her texts were always on the verge of incomprehensible. 

_probably. turns out sunday plans were a bust_ , he replied. Almost immediately after, his phone started ringing. He made a face at the name on the screen.

“Listen, Lucy, it’s not that bad, I don’t know why you’re ringing me.”

“I could feel your sad, pouting face pouring down the phone. Honestly, Jared.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not pouting.”

“Yuh-huh,” she said, clearly not believing a word he said. “Are your dogs piled on top of you, trying to cheer you up? Do you have that damned book of poetry right beside you?”

Jared glanced over at where Winchester’s anthology sat piled on the rickety table by the couch, waiting for him to open one up and get lost for an hour or two.

“How did you –”

“I didn’t, but now I do.” Her voice was incredibly smug. “So why did he cancel?”

“He didn’t cancel, Luce, he just didn’t answer the door. Or my texts.” He shrugged. “He goes out with his friends on a Saturday night, he’s probably hungover. He’s done it before. He’ll probably do it again. It’s no big deal.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long time. Jared found himself holding his breath.

“Jared,” Lucy said slowly. “It kind of seems like it might be a big deal to you.”

Jared bit his lip. “I just don’t like being ignored, that’s all. I keep my Sundays free because it’s our day or whatever, but if he’s going to cancel or forget because he went out the night before, I would like an advance warning. It would’ve been fun to go out with you last night, is all.”

“Hmmm. Have you told him this?”

He cleared his throat. “No,” he muttered. “Not really.” He picked at the hem of his t-shirt before rubbing a hand down Harley’s back.

“Jared.” She sounded exasperated.

“I know!” Jared couldn’t help but feel incredibly defensive. “I know, okay, but sometimes he gets kind of shifty and I don’t want to push the boat. It’s still early days.”

“All right,” Lucy said soothingly. “You can’t do much about it now, if he still hasn’t texted you back. If you’re so stressed about it, go for a run, and we can still talk about then, if you want to.”

“Thanks, Luce.” She had given him an out and he was incredibly grateful. Besides, a run sounded exactly like what he needed.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow either way, okay?”

As soon as the phone call ended, goodbyes said, Jared was in his bedroom and pulling on his running gear. He grabbed the leashes on the hook beside the door and the dogs came running, scrabbling over each other in their excitement. Jared laughed, hooking the leashes to the collars, and letting them pull him out the door and the apartment building. He didn’t look behind him, at Jensen’s big bay window. Jared put in his earphones, put on his iPod, and let the music and his feet slapping the pavement pull all his anger out of him.

~*~

Dripping sweat and feeling lighter, his muscles trembling and the dogs panting, he came up to the apartment building. Harley and Sadie flopped down onto the grass, chests heaving. Jared considered doing the same but something caught his eye and he looked up to see Jensen sitting at his desk, typing furiously on his desktop, frown lines between his eyebrows. Jared was riveted by the look of concentration on his face as he began to cool down from his run.

For long moments, Jared watched, fingers crossed behind his back that Jensen would look up. Eventually, Jared sighed and began to run through his post-run stretches. Near the end, as he stretched his arms over his head, he caught Jensen looking at him, a hunger in his eyes. Their gazes locked and Jensen expression shifted from one of desire to one of apology. ‘Sorry’ he mouthed, and smiled sheepishly. Jared couldn’t help but smile back.

By the time he got inside, there was a text waiting for him on his phone.

_im an asshole. dinner @ 6?_

_sure. as long as you apologise properly ;)_

Jared threw his phone on the bed, grinning, as he stripped off for his shower. Only a few more hours. His cock was hard and he was tempted, as the water from the shower ran over his head and down his back, but there would be time enough for that later. He cleaned himself perfunctorily, ignoring his groin, and was done in minutes. With a towel wrapped around his waist and another around his hair, he came out of the bathroom in time to hear his phone beep.

_im sure ill think of sth_

“Fuck yeah,” Jared breathed and shot off a text to Lucy before he forgot, telling her that everything was going very well indeed. 

Jared spent the next few hours reading through Winchester’s poetry distractedly, finding himself reading some lines disinterestedly, mind wandering elsewhere, and others with rapt attention, licking his lips in anticipation. 

Six o’clock came around and saw Jared running his hands through his hair one last time before he left his apartment to knock on Jensen’s door. There was a heavy warmth sitting low in his gut, a banked fire that would hopefully burn red hot later on. Unlike the last time, Jensen opened the door almost instantly after Jared knocked, as if he had been waiting right by the door. Jared smiled brightly at Jensen, felt a flush at the sight of Jensen’s bare feet.

“Hi,” Jensen said, slightly breathless. He pulled Jared through the doorway, hand wrapped tight around Jared’s wrist. “Jared, I am so sorry about earlier. I completely forgot. I really am an asshole.” His fingers rubbed circles on his wrist and Jared shivered, just a little. Jared cleared his throat before he could speak.

“Hey, it’s okay. Being hungover will do that to you.”

Jensen looked at him in confusion. “Hungover? I wasn’t hungover.” He let go of Jared’s wrist. Jared felt very cold.

“Oh. I just thought you went out with your friends.” Jared shrugged, looking away from Jensen. “You sometimes do that on a Saturday night.”

“Right. Umm.” There was a flicker of something on Jensen’s face, unreadable. “Hey, I hope pizza is okay for dinner? I was too lazy to do anything else,” he said very quickly, moving into the kitchen. Jared followed. He could smell melting cheese and pepperoni. 

“You got pepperoni? My favourite!”

Jensen looked at him fondly. “I know.” Jared watched Jensen carefully. That look from before was gone, as if it was never there. All Jared could see was affection, soft and sweet. He twitched his hands, shaking the suspicious feeling off. He moved over to Jensen, close enough to feel body heat. 

“So, I have some news.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” Jared hummed as he ghosted his nose along Jensen’s jawline. He pressed a quick kiss to Jensen’s cheekbone. “Remember the interview I had?”

“Uh.” Jensen’s hands were wrapped up in Jared’s top, fingers sliding up the skin of his belly. Jared had to fight not to make a sound.

“With Samsung?” Jared pressed another kiss to the other cheekbone, sliding a hand down around Jensen’s side, leaving it to rest just above the curve of his ass. Jensen made a stifled noise.

“Yes. Right, of course,” he muttered, clearly distracted.

“I have a second interview next Monday. I’ll probably get the job.” Jared breathed across Jensen’s ear, arousal flooding through him as Jensen shuddered in him arms. He brought his hand down to squeeze Jensen’s ass, fingers curving to press under and _in_.

“Cool,” Jensen gulped. “Jesus Christ.” He brought his hands up to tangle in Jared’s hair, tugging his head back. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark. He licked his lips and Jared mirrored him, relishing the moment when Jensen’s gaze dropped to watch. Then he blinked, eyes clearing.

“Wait. Jared, what?” He grinned up at Jared. “You have a second interview? For real?”

“Yeah, for real.”

“C’mere, then. That deserves a reward,” Jensen leered. He nipped at Jared’s lower lip and when Jared opened his mouth on a gasp, Jensen licked inside, heavy and absolutely fucking filthy. Their tongues slide together, lips gliding across each other. Jensen had gotten so much at that. Jared’s scalp tingled where Jensen tugged on his hair. He pressed his hips closer and was rewarded with Jensen groaning into his mouth. He pulled away with a slick sound, both of them panting.

“You,” Jensen said, “go sit on the couch while I turn off the oven. Pizzas are probably done.” Jared flushed as Jensen’s eyes travelled down his chest to his groin, where his hard cock was pressing up against the zipper of his jeans. Jensen moved forward and rubbed a hand up the length. Jared moaned as Jensen bit a sucking kiss into the hinge of his jaw. “Don’t start without me,” he breathed.

Jared stumbled into the main room, loving this more confident side of Jensen, one that he rarely got to see. He practically fell onto the couch, legs sprawled. He couldn’t help run his hands up and down his thighs, getting closer to his dick with each pass, listening to Jensen in the kitchen. The most breath-taking thing about them was the ease of their relationship, the intensity of feeling, how with one kiss, a flick of a tongue and Jared was spinning, didn’t know up from down.

When Jensen came in, he immediately went to kneel between Jared’s open legs.

“Oh, fuck.” Jared’s dicked twitched in his jeans almost painfully. “Oh, fuck, please.”

Jared’s fingers shook as Jensen popped the button on his jeans, pulled the zipper down slow, his eyes on Jared’s the whole time. There was a wet spot on Jared’s boxers already, and he blushed, embarrassed at how much he wanted Jensen to suck him off. 

Jensen pulled his boxers down and then wrapped a hand around Jared’s cock. He swiped his thumb across the head and Jared bit his lip, grunting. 

Jensen cleared his throat. “So, do you want this to be fast or slow?” He leaned forward, lips brushing the glistening head as he spoke. 

Jared’s blush moved down his chest, his cheeks on fire. “I’m not going to last long enough for slow, baby.”

Jensen’s eyes got darker. “Good,” he murmured, and licked gently across the glans. He looked at Jared’s dick and swallowed almost nervously. Before Jared could say anything, Jensen was swallowing him down.

Jared locked his body tight, squeezed his eyes shut. Pleasure spiked through him, leaving him breathless. Jensen fluttered his tongue against the length of his cock as he pulled up and Jared felt fireworks spark under his skin. Jensen sucked on the bundle of nerves below the glans and Jared’s hips jerked upwards.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, scattered. “It’s so good, Jen, so good.”

Jensen reached for one of Jared’s hands and placed it on top of his head. Jared flexed his fingers, fingertips gliding over the silky stands of his hair. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Are you sure?”

Jensen licked his lips, locking eyes with Jared. “I am very sure.”

Jared nodded, his voice now stolen and his heart speeding up in his chest. His balls drew up as Jensen took him in his mouth again. He brought his other hand to cradle Jensen’s head and tentatively thrust upwards. Jensen hummed encouragement and Jared slammed his head back, gasping and moaning at the vibrations. He thrust up again and again, rolling his head forward to watch Jensen take it. Spit dripped from his mouth and there were tears in the corner of his eyes. In a rush, Jared felt his orgasm pool in his groin and he fucked into Jensen’s mouth harder, faster.

“Gonna come,” he gasped. “Gonna—”

Heat exploded out of him, rushed through his arms and legs. His toes pushed up against the floor as he thrust once, twice more into Jensen’s mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, long and loud. Jensen brought up a hand to milk his orgasm out of his, swallowing his come. The muscles in Jared’s legs and stomach jumped with aftershocks. Jared swore, hand on heart, that Jensen was able to suck his brain out through his cock. He was gasping, almost incoherent as the last of his orgasm fizzled through him. 

Eventually, he was able to return the favour. Needless to say, the pizza was cold by the time they got to it, but it tasted as delicious as ever.

~*~

Jared dashed across the hall to Jensen’s, knocking on the door, bright and early Monday morning, fresh out of the shower after his run with Sadie and Harley, and Jared had left his phone behind last night, left it sitting on the coffee table. Got distracted, his mind left lingering on the redness of Jensen’s lips, the feel of them around his cock. He stumbled back into his own apartment, falling into bed, and fell asleep between one breath and the next. Jensen opened the door, a smile and a kiss for him, his phone in one hand.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jared mumbled between kisses, quick and feather light. 

“You’re late,” Jensen laughed. “Gonna miss the bus.” His eyes sparkled and Jared had to kiss him again, just one more, a harder press of mouth, a swipe of tongue, deep and dirty, leaving them both breathless and Jensen dazed. Jared winked at him. Couldn’t help it, kissed him again, and ran out of the apartment building with Jensen’s laughter ringing in his ears. 

He caught the bus with one minute to spare, the heat causing him to sweat, t-shirt sticking to his skin. His gaze caught on the business suits people wore, smart and sharp. His second interview for Samsung was this coming Monday. Jared knew he was good for it, almost one hundred per cent sure. He wiped at the sweat on his brow, wishing the air conditioner would push out colder air. He thought of ice, beer in a cooler, lounging on the deck in a lazy sprawl, Jensen by his side. Jared ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back and tucking behind his ears as best he could. Maybe a pool, if he climbed up the corporate ladder. A new place with a large yard, so he could have the space for it and for the dogs to run around. A new place to start a new life. Jared tapped his fingers on his leg. A new life with Jensen. 

In the cooled air of the bus, Jared let himself drift as he imagined it. A home. Felt soothing warmth splash in his chest, around his heart. It’s all he’d ever wanted, really. His family, in their house, so happy together all five of them. His memories of summer were some of his favourite. His Mom and Dad, bickering over the barbeque, the same argument about Dad being the man of the house, and Mom rolling her eyes and wrestling the tongs from him, claiming all he ever did was burn the meat and burn himself in the process. Jared remembered running inside to get the first aid kit because of his Dad’s stubbornness on more than one occasion. Megan, Jeff and Jared hollering and screeching in swimsuits, water guns in hand, absolutely drenched and having the best of times. Mom kissing the boo-boo’s when one of them inevitably slipped on the wet concrete. It was always Jared because Jeff didn’t realise being bigger meant being stronger. Jared had scars on both of his knees from skinning them when Jeff pushed him for stealing the better water gun. 

He wanted that. He wanted kids who fought over meaningless things. He wanted to kiss their boo-boo’s better. Jared sighed, smiled apologetically at the woman beside him as he shifted around in his seat, his arm knocking into her shoulder. In the age old cliché, Jared had thought that a family began with a man and a woman, that a happy home started there. Foolish. He had tried though. Tried to have it with Christine because that’s how a family worked. 

Something had never fit right, though. Jared rubbed his hands up and down his legs, remembering boys in college talking about nothing but girls and him not _getting_ it. And then, in the last year of college, he stumbled across D.S. Winchester in his hunt through contemporary literature in an attempt to distract himself from finals. It was a discovery. Jared saw the words on the page and realised that what he wanted was a variation of the same theme. He could have a family still, kids and a house and dogs, and love a man. Love wasn’t just for men and women, but for every combination thinkable. There was a passion that Winchester spoke of and Jared knew it was something he would never have with Christine. 

Of course, getting drunk at his graduation party and making out with Christine’s older brother in his bedroom was probably not the best way to find that passion. He lied to Jensen about that, omitted it at the very least. Jared couldn’t stand to tell him that he cheated, with her brother, of all the stupidest things. He clenched his fists on his knees, cheeks burning red in the heat and anger and humiliation. Jensen had a purity or an innocence about the cruelty of men that even his father’s death couldn’t quite exterminate. He was optimistic and believed in the best of people. It would be a while yet before Jared would be able to gather the willpower to burst that bubble.

Jensen looked at Jared with such wonder, like Jared was his saviour. Maybe he thought Jared couldn’t see it, but he did. He caught those looks and when they became too much to bear, he covered Jensen in kisses. He helped make that light darker and heated, changed it into something he coped with better. There was too much love in Jensen’s eyes, even though that was part of the intensity of who they were as a couple, that passion, that Jared adored. 

The bus trundled along, caught up in the Richardson eight o’clock traffic and Jared would be late. He looked out the window, watching people on the sidewalk, driving past him in their cars. It seemed to him like everybody was rushing to get somewhere, or running to get away.

~*~

He arrived at the animal shelter at nine, rather than half eight. He apologised to Charles as he ran in, dumping his stuff in the office, where Lucy was lying in wait. He ground to a halt at the look on her face. Jared envisioned her as a fierce lioness stalking her prey, and even though there was most than a foot in height difference between them, he hunched his shoulders to appear smaller. If she couldn’t see him, than she wouldn’t ask.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in. Late night?” She waggled her eyebrows, grinning salaciously. Jared kept his face blank but couldn’t help the light flush that confirmed everything he wasn’t yet ready to talk about.

Lucy clapped her hands together. “Jared, you got laid!” Charles popped his head around the door, clearly intent on listening in. “Charles,” Lucy said, “our little boy is all grown up.” She wiped away an imaginary tear.

“Is he now.” Charles raised an eyebrow. Jared could feel the weight of judgment coming from it. He pressed his hands to his face and shook his head helplessly. “By the way,” Charles said, “it’s your turn to clean out the kennels.” And with that, he disappeared from the office.

“Why is this my life,” Jared groaned, muffled behind his hands.

“Oh hush now.” Lucy pulled on his elbow, getting him to move his hands. “C’mon, Jared, look at me.” Jared reluctantly, slowly, opened his eyes. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?” She blinked angelically. “Where there –” she paused dramatically and then lowered her voice to a whisper “ – fireworks?”

“You,” Jared said, poking her with a finger, “are an asshole.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and flicked her hair over her shoulder. Jared grinned, moved in to give her a hug.

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

Lucy huffed. “So, did you talk to lover boy?” At Jared sheepish look, she slapped him lightly on his upper arm. “Jared! How can you fix anything if you don’t talk about it?”

“I know!” Jared rubbed his arm. “It’s just. He was acting all shifty and he wouldn’t tell me why he didn’t text me back or whatever in the morning. I - _we_ \- got distracted.”

“He’s done that before, hasn’t he?” Jared shrugged, looking down at the floor. Lucy frowned. “I hate to say it, but that sounds odd and kind of suspicious.”

Jared pulled on the hem of his t-shirt. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned around to leave the office, his shoulders tense and squared off. Something in his stomach heaved.

Lucy sighed. “Jared, don’t run away—”

“I have work to do, Luce, okay?” he said sharply and left, grabbing the fork from the shed on the way to the kennels. Just his luck that he had to clean them out today. He was angry now, fingers gripping the handle of the fork too hard, muscles locking. Jared didn’t want to be asked questions, he didn’t want to think about this. He wanted to go with the flow and not question, let it all fold out by itself. He didn’t want to ruin it by asking the wrong thing. 

Jared inhaled and grimaced at the smell. He loved dogs, loved his own beyond all measure, but this part he fucking hated. He couldn’t wait for his interview, could feel his brain shrivelling from disuse. He wanted the solid answers of equations, of there being a right and wrong answer. Numbers didn’t force him to overanalyse, they just were.

He sighed and began working, same old, same old. Every Monday morning for the past two months. 

Jared needed to get out of here.

~*~

Jared arrived back by five, opened the door and was welcomed enthusiastically by Sadie and Harley.

“Hey, guys,” he said, a yawn stretching out the words, cracking them around the edges. He closed the door behind him with a swing of his foot and stretched, back popping pleasantly before dropping to his knees to receive his kisses. Sadie snuffled against his neck, licked once, twice, before settling down by his knees, curling around him, the heat from her body pouring into him. Harley slobbered all over his face. It was all Jared could do, just scrunch up his face and close his eyes and mouth, breath through his nose. Eventually, Harley settled down and Jared wiped his face with the hem of his tee, chuckling while making disgusted faces. 

He puttered around in the kitchen for a while, not really doing anything, just putting away the dishes he’d cleaned that morning. He took a shower, a long one, as long as the hot water lasted, just to have something to do. 

Six o’clock and he was sitting on his couch. It was old and worn but still comfortable. Sadie and Harley were draped across him. Their combined warmth mixed with the heat of Texas during early August had Jared wearing only his boxers, damp hair curling around the nape of his neck, getting too long now. He needed a haircut, especially with his upcoming interview, but Jared couldn’t afford one. He couldn’t afford anything, really, finally hitting the bottom of the barrel on his savings. His refrigerator was empty save for a gallon of milk, some bread and a few fixings for a sandwich. He was relying on Jensen to feed him half the time. 

Jared had nothing to do. He had the friends he’d made at the shelter – Lucy, Matt, and Charlie, all the dogs and cats. But they had their own lives, rooted deep, and he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt that. All his family and other friends were back in San Antonio. He hadn’t spoken a word to any of them since he left. He cleared his throat and Sadie propped her head up, cocked enquiringly.

“I’m alright, girl,” he soothed, rubbing a hand down her neck. She settled back down again and Jared stifled his sigh. Maybe he had left too soon. Maybe he hadn’t given them enough of a chance. Then again, the shame had been too great. All of them coming back to see him in his dorm making out with his roommate had been too much. Just one look at Christine’s devastated face, the sound of his Mom’s heaving sobs and his Dad’s quiet, thunderous anger, and Jared couldn’t stay anymore. He packed his bags and ran away. 

Whatever. He was moving on, moving up. He reached over to grab one of Winchester’s books, thumbed through it. He had a new job in his sights and a boyfriend. He had Jensen.

Except for when he didn’t. His rustling through the well-thumbed pages stopped. He wasn’t invited out on Saturday night’s for drinks in the local bar to meet his friends. Jared saw Jakob the once, or presumed it to be Jakob as he walked by the bookstore. Who else could it have been but Jensen’s oldest friend, who had Jensen’s shoulders shaking with laughter?

Jared dropped his head back against the back of the couch, let it rest there. It was fair, he mused. Jared didn’t really tell Jensen about his old friends, four hundred and fifty miles south west of here. A whole world apart now. That was how he justified it: that was then and this was now, two worlds and ne’er the twain shall meet.

It was in these silent hours, after work, before hanging out with Jensen, that his whole world looked grim, that he felt as alone as he did. Nothing to be done about it. Stay busy, keep moving. Jump from one thing to the next. 

Half six came and went, seven o’clock, half seven. Jared tapped his fingers on his bare knee, felt the stretch of scar tissue in his left hand. Then it was eight and he shifted, lifted himself off the couch as gently as possible, trying not to wake the two sleeping dogs, their ribs moving up and down. He lingered watching them, emotion rising up in his throat and making his eyesight blurry. No matter what, he would always have his dogs and their unconditional, absolute love. He couldn’t consider himself lonely with them around, not truly. But Jared couldn’t keep them cooped up in here much longer. He needed more space for them, as obedient as they were in this small apartment. It was not fair to them. To him. 

He went into his bedroom, grabbed a clean t-shirt out of his wardrobe and made his way back, snagged his keys off of the table by the door, opened it, checked to see if the coast was clear. Closed it, three steps, Jensen’s door. That close. Some days Jared though he would suffocate from that proximity, rare as they were. Days like today, he loathed those three steps, wanted none between him and Jensen, two bodies wrapped up in each other on cool, clean, crisp sheets, the feel of Jensen breathing beneath his hands. 

One day, if Jared played his cards right. 

Jared knocked on the door, three times, long and lazy, slow drag of knuckles against the wood. Christ, he was tired. His stomach gurgled. And hungry.

Minutes came and went before Jared heard anything, and then, just as he made his way to leave, weighed down, lonely and disappointed, he heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, soft murmur of a voice and the shuffle of feet across the floor. The door opened and Jared saw Jensen’s eyes widen in surprise to see him there, watched as realisation dawned.

“Oh, shit, Jared, I’m so sorry.” And he looked it, he really did, his lips pulled down at the corners, almost a pout, sincere, apologetic. But he didn’t let Jared in, kept the door half-closed. “I forgot, I was working. Someone –“ and Jensen’s voice petered out, went quiet. Jared was so confused.

“That’s fine, I guess. Let me know next time, alright?” Jensen nodded and Jared reached out a hand, cupped Jensen’s cheek, pulled him in for a soft kiss, and there, all was forgiven, say hello, I’m home now. Jensen hummed gently into Jared’s mouth and he couldn’t help but smile. Jensen had that effect on him sometimes. Jared swept a thumb along Jensen’s cheek, saw his smile and laid a kiss at the corner of it.

“You need any help? It’s for the bookstore, right?”

A pause, a flicker of his eyes, his smile dropped. “Yes, that’s right.” A rough swallow, Jensen’s throat working. A lie caught up in there somewhere. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” He gave Jared a brief kiss, a quick, impersonal smack and then Jensen closed the door. Jared stood there for long moments, wondering what just happened. 

This had happened before. Last week, the week before that. At first only once but now sometimes twice a week, Jared was left to do his own thing without any warning, suddenly cut off from communication. There was a limit and for all his happiness with Jensen, he didn’t know how much more he could take. His conversation with Lucy echoed in his mind. There was a forced distance and isolation here. And Jared couldn’t stand that, no one to laugh with, celebrate with, to just _be_ with. Bad enough that Jensen was cautious around him, never going too far, never pushing for anything. Didn’t he understand that Jared wanted everything? This hole in his heart when Jensen wasn’t there, this irrational, irredeemable, unstoppable, consuming thing that was Jensen’s and Jensen’s alone? No matter how terrified Jared was of this, _not_ having it terrified him more.

Jared laid a palm flat against the door, so lightly he could barely feel the grain of the wood beneath his fingertips. He walked away and let himself into his apartment. Sadie and Harley brushed up against the bare skin of his calves, warm and so familiar but in that moment, not even close to enough. He walked through the kitchen, ignored the humming of the refrigerator, the growling of his stomach. In his bedroom, he pulled his tee off and threw it into the corner. He crawled onto the bed, his dogs curling up beside him, whining, snuffling against his skin.

Jared still slept with empty hands.

~*~

Jared woke up that morning in a cold sweat, panic lingering in his throat, an edge of terror running through his mind. He lay there, gasping for breath, willing for his heartbeat to calm down. He couldn’t remember the dream, the images immediately slipping through his fingers, irredeemably lost. He threw the best covers off and pushed his hair off his forehead. The alarm went off minutes later and with great reluctance he went for his run with Harley and Sadie. His breakfast was an unsatisfying sandwich, made up of the leftovers in his fridge.

When he left to go to work, he didn’t knock on Jensen’s door to say good morning, didn’t meet him on the stairs or on the sidewalk on the way to the bus. Jared didn’t look for him, nursing his hurt in his chest, feeding it slowly throughout the day so it kept burning. Lucy gave him a wide berth and he felt like an asshole. He went over to her before his lunch break and apologised. One look at his face and catching the sound of his rumbling stomach, she took him out to lunch.

The sooner he got this job, the better. He hated being so reliant on others like this. 

On the bus on the way home, he got a text from Jensen, saying he had a meeting and wouldn’t be able to do dinner this evening again. 

_really am sorry_ , it read. _ill miss u x_

Jared scoffed at his phone. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, disbelieving. Suddenly, it felt like all Jensen ever did was work. He didn’t give Jared specifics, couldn’t tell Jared what he was doing, all secrecy and darting eyes. And Jared was the odd one here, he knew it. He wanted to know everything about Jensen, every detail. He wanted all or nothing. He wanted a future, a home.

Next day. Repeat. Every other day, home by five, cereal for dinner. Exchanged inane texts with Jensen, did the same with Lucy and Matt. He recognised the need to extend, branch out. As much as he wanted it, it’s wasn’t healthy for someone to be his entire world. Especially when it appeared that he was being shut out. He walked on eggshells around the apartment. He devoured his Winchester books over and over, needing to feel that source of connection. Jensen’s face had lit up when Jared had talked about them. Tracing those well-read words with his eyes was a way of convincing himself he felt less unsure. He tried to prepare himself for his interview on Monday, but he wasn’t stressing over it. He felt confident about it, but not cocky.

Finally, it was Sunday again. He got a text that morning asking to push their breakfast back to a lunch. His heart sank but he shrugged it off. It was something he should be used to by now. Jared spent the next few hours pacing the apartment and playing with his dogs, their licks and kisses finally pulling a smile out of him. 

At around one, he picked himself up from floor and forced himself out of his apartment. He paused before he knocked on the Jensen’s door. There was this feeling in his chest, a vice squeezing his lungs. What if Jensen was too tired? What if—

His knuckles rapped hard enough that pain reverberated through his hand and up his arm. It took a while for Jensen to answer and Jared kept himself occupied by counting the tiles on the floor. He’d counted the tiles in the hallway twice by the time Jensen opened his door.

“Hey, Jared,” he yawned. His hair was a mess and the bags under his eyes were the worst Jared had ever seen.

“Hi. You okay?” Jared asked, concerned. “You look exhausted.” He swallowed, and even though it killed him, he said, “We can postpone if you wanna catch some z’s, man.”

Jensen dropped the hand he was rubbing across his eyes in surprise. “What? No! I haven’t seen you all week. I’m not miss hanging out with my –. Umm, with you just because I’m tired.” He smiled blearily up at Jared. Jared was torn by conflicting emotions. He ignored them. 

“Cool.” Jared could be casual. “Do I get no hello kiss?” 

Jensen leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Jared didn’t have it in him to ask for more. He would take what he was given and be more than grateful for it. Most of them time.

They had lunch in their usual place and it felt strained, awkward in a way it had never been. Jensen was tired and barely eating. He downed coffee like it was air, vital to his continuing existence. Jared ordered too much food and forced himself to eat. He nudged his foot up against Jensen’s but got no response. 

Walking back to the apartment seemed to revive Jensen, or else the coffee had finally kicked in. When Jared went to get the dogs, Jensen spent a few moments playing with them on the lawn in front of the apartment building. Hearing Jensen’s laughter eased a tension in Jared’s gut, loosened his shoulders. When Jensen sprang up and, after a furtive glance around, kissed him quickly on this lips, it seemed like the day could only get better from here on out. 

Harley being the rowdier of the two dogs, Jared held his leash while Jensen held Sadie’s. They wandered around Richardson for an hour, talking about nothing. The weather, the best places to eat, Harley’s over-enthusiastic and friendly nature when he decided to sniff or lick an unsuspecting bystander. But what Jared enjoyed most was people-watching and making up stories about their lives. Jensen had a scary good, and really trashy, imagination. It was hilarious.

“That woman,” he said, pointing at a woman walking quickly down the street, “is on her way to see her secret lover who’s in the hospital after being injured in a car crash that was her fault.”

“Oh, God. You’re ridiculous.” Jared slapped a hand across Jensen’s chest. “Go on, tell me why.”

Jensen grinned over at him. “Well, she’s wearing a deep red lipstick, hence lover, but with that over-sized hat and giant sunglasses, she doesn’t want to be recognised so it’s a secret affair.”

“Oh, but of course.” Jared nodded, mock-serious. Jensen elbowed him.

“She’s heading in the direction of the hospital but it’s far enough away that she should be driving or getting a taxi but she’s walking –”

“Because she’s terrified to get in a car after causing the accident that caused the injuries. That’s amazing. Honestly Jensen, you should be writing soap operas with that brain of yours.” He laughed and poked Jensen in the head.

“You are such an asshole!” Jensen tried to shove Jared’s hand away but without success. They had a little scuffle there on the pavement. It was only when Harley started barking and trying to join in that they stopped, breathless and giddy.

“C’mon,” Jared said. “Let’s head over the park.”

He kept glancing over at Jensen’s bright eyes, the soft smile that refused to leave his face. Jared’s heart grew three sizes, suddenly far too big for his chest. It was evening now, the summer sun high in the sky. The dogs ran around their legs, dashing off and then darting back. Jared carried their leashes in one hand. They walked close together, shoulders brushing, knuckles bumping and Jared wrapped his hand around Jensen’s. He made himself let go of the rest of the tension he’d been carrying since this morning. They moved off the path and into the small woods where the it was cooler.

“What are you –” Jensen started to say, but Jared cut him off with a kiss, something small and chaste. 

“What about –” and Jared cut him off again with another kiss. He wanted to make this day a good one. He wanted to play around with his dogs and kiss Jensen when he smelled like sunshine and coffee and a little bit of sweat. 

“Jensen, it’s okay. Nobody can see us,” he murmured. “Jensen.” He said it as if that was all that mattered and in that moment, it did. He breathed the name out, watched it fan over Jensen’s cheek, his green eyes blinking wide open. 

“Oh,” Jensen said. He kissed Jared back, jolting into him when Harley jumped up against him, paws on his back, standing on hind legs. Jared laughed, fell to his knees. He received an armful of overexcited dog, rolled around in the grass with him, and Jensen joined in, Sadie soon after. Covered in leaves and grass stains, Jared was alight, a bubble of laughter bursting from his mouth and out into the warm summer evening air. It was a good day. He knew it would be, eventually.

Harley dashed off into the lush green trees and brought back a dried out stick, maybe half a meter long. He dropped it at Jared’s feet, bouncing around expectedly. He handed it to Jensen and played with his favourite girl as Jensen tossed the stick. Jared smiled as Harley ran off like a mad thing, came back panting. He had fallen in love with Jensen the first time Jensen had thrown something that Harley could chase. It always made Jared laugh when Harley leapt up and covered Jensen in his enamoured doggy kisses. The look of shock, surprise and disgust at that first swipe of his tongue never got old, Jared folded over in half, tearing up with the strength of his laughter. 

Eventually, they ended up on the grass again, Jensen lying beside him. His white tee and jeans were wonderfully and horribly grass stained, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling. It was a good look on him. Jared loved how relaxed Jensen got at the end of their Sunday’s, comfortable in himself and around Jared. Harley and Sadie lay slumped over their legs, panting. Jared felt the expansion of their ribs against his shins, connected and thrumming with it.

They held hands, leaning close into each other, thighs and shoulders touching. Jared leaned over and kissed Jensen on the cheek, moved down to his lips. Jensen pulled back. Jared leaned up on one elbow and brought his other hand up to rest on Jensen’s neck. He licked his lips as Jensen swallowed heavily. 

“We’re tucked away,” Jared said, moving closer. “Stop worrying.” He closed the final few inches and brushed his lips across Jensen’s. “Besides,” and his lips didn’t move from Jensen’s catching on them with each word. “We won’t be doing more than this.” He kissed Jensen gently and he relaxed, bringing his arms up to wrap around Jared’ shoulders. They made out for a long time under the trees. Jared never pushed for anything more or anything deeper, allowed himself only a flicker of tongue. He swallowed Jensen’s sighs and light little moans, swallowed them down and locked them deep inside his chest, his to keep forever. 

Eventually, they settled back down on the grass, Jensen’s head on Jared’s shoulder, while Jared rested a hand on his chest. They watched the sky turn darker and darker, light pinks slowly faded to the most beautiful midnight blue. Jared was happy.

‘This is my perfect day,’ he thought. And then his stomach grumbled.

Jensen laughed and shifted up to stand, brushing pieces of grass and leaves off his ass. He flushed when he caught Jared’s eyes tracing the curve of it.

He gave Jared his hand, said, “Come on, you horndog, time we head home.” Jensen pulled him up, one swift movement that brought them chest to chest, warmth bleeding from him to Jared. Jared lent down, captured those plump lips with his own, kissed them and nipped at them, sucked them until they were red and swollen, slick with spit. Jared sighed happily, wrapped his arms around Jensen, tucked his face in the curve of his neck, the bend where neck met shoulder and just breathed him in. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled and Jensen gave a weak laugh. “I was never gone, Jared.” Jared shrugged, didn’t call him on the lie. Jensen gently pulled away from Jared. Something cold and hard sunk down his throat and into his gut.

“I’ve got to go, I have to wo—“

“You have to work, yeah, yeah, I know, Jen.” Jared pulled away completely. He turned around, whistled at the dogs. “You’re always working these days.” He couldn’t hold back the bitterness in his tone, felt that coldness spread up through his, down to his fingertips.

“That’s not fair, Jared, I’m just busy.” Jensen looked at him with eyes that were hidden in the half-light and Jared couldn’t tell what he really meant, watched as he opened his mouth to say something more but Jared got there first.

“And you’ll have more time next week, or the week after, or even the week after that.” The words came out faster and faster, dropping out of his mouth like two-tonne stones, shattering the perfect peace that had surrounded them mere moments before. “You’ll remember to have time for me then, right? Remember to miss me, remember that I even exist, right?” The anger he tried to pound out against the pavement was rearing its ugly head. He wanted to dump it all on Jensen, leave it behind him and just run. He’d done it before, after all. There was a twisting feeling in his gut, barbed wire and acid in his veins, that chilling cold burning through him. He watched Jensen’s face go white with shock and hurt. He saw how he’d cracked something and relished it, a little tit for tat. He didn’t stop even then. 

“Is that what you were going to say?” And he flung his arms out wide even as his chest ached, split open and something vital was slipping through his fingers, pouring out of him and into the ground. “Can you just please tell me?!”

His words echoed over the now empty park, a sudden darkness enveloping them, deeper than he had expected it to be. Jensen turned away from him, saying nothing, his shoulders a hard line. He started walking away. Jared couldn’t let him. They weren’t finished.

“Jensen,” he called and his voice cracked. His throat was scraped raw by his words, by their vicious tone. He knew there were more, lying in wait. He had a wound that wouldn’t heal because he picked at it, his dirty fingers filling it with infection. He wanted to hurt Jensen the way he hurt.

“Jensen,” Jared called again, so desperately sorry, hoping Jensen could hear it in his voice. “Wait, I need –“

Jensen whirled around, a spark of anger in him, brutal and vicious and so surprising. “What, Jared, what else do you _need?_ ” The dogs cowered behind Jared’s legs, Harley’s head peaking around to gaze up at Jensen beseechingly.

“Oh, Christ,” Jensen murmured, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, dragging a hand across his eyes. 

Jared took a step towards him, reached out with a hesitant hand, laid it gently on the side of Jensen’s neck, swallowed at the strained look in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Jared said, straight-forward, trying to ease this whole thing as best he could, one quick swipe filling in the gaps. 

“I am sorry, Jensen, I don’t really know where that came from.” Lie, lie, lie. “I think I’m just stressed about my interview tomorrow. I have so much riding on it. The rest of my life, maybe, my future here in Richardson. It’s a really big deal.”

And then Jensen opened his mouth, confusion writ across his face, and said, “Interview?” 

Jared had to take a deep breath, tried to let it go. “Yeah, remember I told you I have that second interview? It’s tomorrow.” 

“Oh shit, that’s right.” Jensen scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I forgot, sorry. I’ve been—” Jensen paused, licked his lips. “I’ve been busy, I guess.”

“I understand.” Jared shrugged, looking away from Jensen. He scratched his throat, digging his nails in a little. There was this huge feeling bubbling up viciously under his skin. He pushed it down instead. It was a bitter thing to swallow, to leave it sitting in the pit of his gut to fester. But to release it meant destroying this moment of a fragile truce. Jared pushed forward into Jensen’s space, cupped his cheek with the other hand. He felt Jensen’s come to rest on his hips, natural there, a perfect fit.

“I guess we’ve both had a stressful few days,” Jared said.

“Yeah,” Jensen sighed. He drew the word out, a drawling sound that ran down Jared’s spine, invisible fingers smoothing down the skin. “It’s okay, Jared. No, really, it is,” he said, shaking his head when Jared opened his mouth to correct him.

Harley chose that moment to bark, Sadie joining, and Jensen let out a low chuckle at their antics. “Let’s get them home, okay?” Leaning up, he pressed a kiss into Jared’s lips, said against them, “We can worry about this tomorrow, after our celebration.”

“Celebration,” Jared repeated, slow, unsure.

“Yeah,” Jensen grinned up at him. “Celebration. For when you get the job. We’ll do something, go somewhere, I don’t know. Jared, we’ll figure it out.”

Jared didn’t miss the double meaning of those words. Worried the whole walk home, the both of them wrapped up in their own separate silences. He got a long, deep kiss at his door, hands fisted in cotton. Just before he closed the door, Jensen said, “Good luck tomorrow.”

Jared went to bed wrapped up in dreams of hope, hugging a pillow to his chest to distract himself from the continued emptiness of his hands.

~*~

Jared got up earlier than usual in the following morning, his interview at ten and on the far side of Richardson. He went for a run, saw Jensen at his bay window illuminated by his desk light, scribbling furiously on something. There was a fierce twist in his stomach. Jared knew, in a burst of clarity, that he loved this man. He just couldn’t take being on the outside looking in, not after what Jensen had given him: the possibility of a future together. He loved Jensen and knew it to be too soon, but maybe this once, he could have his fairytale.

Pushing it all back, Jared took the dogs inside, had a shower, shaved, dressed in his only suit. He packed up his briefcase. His breath stuttered as he brushed his hands over the leather, his graduation present from his parents. He shoved it to the back of his mind and made his way to the nearest bus top, nervous and scared, heart hammering so loudly Jared thought the whole world could hear. The bus arrived and he hopped on, early enough still for it not to be crowded. His phone buzzed in his pocket with good luck texts from Lucy, Matt, and even Charlie. Jared smiled gratefully at his phone and shot off replies. He waited for one more text, but there was nothing.

Jared realised that this fear, this apprehension, curling in his gut and contorting everything was not because of the interview but because of _Jensen._ He’d do fine in the interview, excellent, even. He was charming and intelligent, and a certain exec had hinted at the previous interview that he was the main favourite, a shoe-in. Jared didn’t have anything to worry about. And still he worried.

He watched the scenery drift by, minute after minute passing, the roads steadily filling up, the pavements slowly invaded by morning joggers, others walking, mothers with their babies in strollers. The world kept on turning. 

Jared felt like he was finally done waiting. 

He walked into the Samsung Telecommunications building head held high, fifteen minutes early, and walked out four hours later, a new member of the software engineering team, but stomach just as twisted and tied up, hoping for the best and bracing for the worst. The first thing he did was send a text to Jensen. 

_I got it! Ttyl dinner @7?_

~*~

**PART FOUR**

Jared managed to make it home by four, catching the lull between lunch hour and the rush to get home. He checked his phone compulsively on the bus but there was nothing. He shrugged off the disappointment. Jensen was at work. Jared let himself into his apartment, still caught in the current of disbelief and happiness of getting a new job. A job with prospects and a ladder Jared could climb. Sadie and Harley jumped up to meet him, too much energy for his apartment and the floor had fresh scuff marks. Jared didn’t care.

“Heya guys, I’ll be with ya in a second, Daddy’s got to get out of his suit, okay?” He dropped his briefcase on the couch, his phone on the books beside it, and scratched behind their ears, both hands at work. He was a multi-tasker, no sweat. He grinned as Harley licked a stripe up his cheek. As he strode into his bedroom, the dogs followed him, leaping up onto his bed and rolling around in the sheets.

Sighing in exasperation, he hung in suit up and got changed into his running gear. He didn’t tell them to move. Their antics were familiar and made him laugh.

“Who wants to go for a run, huh?” He clapped his hands together and Harley launched himself off the bed, barrelling into Jared’s chest and knocking him to the ground. Jared laughed, even with the wind knocked out of him. He grabbed Harley’s head between his hands and gave him a gentle shake. “Silly boy.”

Sadie sniffed by Jared’s ear and he turned to look at her. She brushed her nose against his chin and snorted, almost impatiently. Jared rolled his eyes.

“I’m up, I’m up. Off me, you giant oaf!” he gave Harley a shove, snickering, and stood up. He chased the dogs out of his room, grabbing the leashes on his way out the door. Out of the grass in front of the apartment block, he roughhoused with them for a while, getting covered in grass stains. The sun was high, a gentle cool breeze cutting through the humidity, and for that moment, his dogs barking and his laughter mixing in the air, he felt like this was the way it was meant to be. A piece slotted into place. His run was short, the day already long enough that he didn’t have the energy but he felt good. Felt complete.

~*~

As he stumbled up the steps a good forty minutes later, he looked over at Jensen’s bay window. Jared knew he wouldn’t be home until six, seven at the latest. And there had been no promises made to leave early. Still, Jared knocked on Jensen’s door, a shy fluttering feeling slumping his shoulders. He couldn’t place it, this nervousness. There was a small ball of happiness and contentment making room for itself in Jared’s heart and he wanted to share it. He wanted to share it now, with Jensen. His hands trembled as he knocked on the door. He got no reply and accepted it. The feeling could wait. It wasn’t going anywhere.

His dogs pulled him over to his apartment door, panting. Harley slumped comically against the floor.

“Wuss,” Jared scoffed. In his apartment he splashed water into the dog bowls in the kitchen, before stripping off quickly and making his way into the bathroom. He sighed in disgust at the stains in the grouting but groaned in relief at the decent water pressure. Jared thought of Jensen’s apartment, what he’d seen of the bathroom, gleaming stainless steel. He scrubbed his hands though his hair, rubbing the shampoo in viciously, washing it out, rubbing soap over his skin and felt his cock wake up, ever hopeful. Jared pulled at his erection almost brutally, barely enough slick. He forced his orgasm out, quick and rough, the slide of his fingers against his hole enough to send him shooting over the edge, pleasure so tight it was almost painful. He rested his forehead against the cool tiles beneath the shower head and stayed there until the water ran cold, steeping out only when he began shivering, his mind stuttering to a sluggish pace.

Drying his skin ruthlessly quickly, as he warmed up, Jared felt his irritation from yesterday itch through his veins, combining with his earlier fear, and as he yanked on his boxers, he didn’t know what to do with himself, a restless energy making him indecisive. His good mood from earlier had evaporated, even as he put on a nice green shirt and his good jeans in the hope that tonight would end up somewhere better. He plopped himself down on his couch and looked at the ceiling. He noticed the damp stains and peeling paint, the water damage, and knew he could move out soon, even next week. He wanted to move, begin a new life, and a new chapter, but he’d be leaving Jensen behind then, and the though cut through him, all sharp edges. What would Jensen say? Would he come with Jared? Jared couldn’t imagine it. Jensen’s custom bookcase sprang to mind. He knew that Jensen wouldn’t leave, too much work and love and care in the detailing. But would he let Jared go, just like that, a snap of the fingers.

Harley and Sadie yipped at him, having drunk their fill, and when they took up their usual positions sprawled across him on the couch, he petted them, rubbed at the fur under their chins. He needed their unfettered, unconditional affection, their slobbering, over-enthusiastic love. Sadie and Harley squirmed all over Jared, their licking kisses and playful biting forcing a laugh out of him. He loved these two dogs. He would have been unbearably lonely without them. It was why he let them get away with messing up his bedding, with the odd scuff marks on the floor. 

His phone beeped at him, someone calling him, and he reached over to grab it from where he’d left it when he came in, balanced precariously on his collection of books by the couch. His stomach swooped. It was Lucy. Jared swallowed, forced himself to smile.

“Hey, Lucy.”

“So?” she demanded.

“What?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, son. How did it go, you little tease.”

Jared shrugged a shoulder, his smile more genuine now. “I got it.”

Lucy shrieked in delight. “I knew you would,” she shouted. “Oh, this is fabulous. What are you doing to celebrate?”

“Jensen said something about a dinner or going out, but we haven’t confirmed anything.” Jared made a face as Harley farted, waving a hand in front of him.

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re wrapping up at the shelter now, so if you meet us downtown, we can go to that steakhouse you’ve been drooling about—“

“I haven’t been _drooling_ , Lucy,” he interrupted, indignant. “I don’t drool. I talked about it once.” Lucy scoffed. “Luce, I can hear you rolling your eyes. Stop it.”

“Urgh,” she huffed. “Fine. I’m going to book a table for half past six. I assume lover boy will be there. I can’t wait to meet him, by the way.”

Jared cleared his throat. “I. Ummm. He, we.” Jared couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. Lucy was silent, patient in a way that always caught him off guard. He let out a heavy breath. “He’ll be late, probably. He’s still at work. He doesn’t know yet.” He was too hot, his cheeks too flushed, Harley too heavy on his lap. The sound that Lucy made was too knowing. 

“Okay, Jared,” she said softly. “Give him a call, send him a text. You deserve to celebrate, so I am taking you out to dinner with Matt and Charlie. If he shows up, it’ll be fantastic. This is an amazing opportunity; you’ve said it yourself so many times. You shouldn’t stay at home, waiting.”

“Okay.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. In so short a time, she’d come to know him so well. “Okay,” he repeated, his voice stronger. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Atta boy,” she said, fondly. “See you soon. Call him.” Jared could hear her yell for Charlie before she hung up and then she was gone. He was left staring at his phone. If Jensen didn’t answer, did it matter? He was working. Harley shifted on his lap, paws digging into Jared’s leg insistently. 

“Yeah, all right, ringing him now.” Jared could take a hint. He smoothed a hand down Harley’s back, more for his benefit than Harley’s, and dialled Jensen’s number. He ignored the jump in his heart as it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Jen. It’s me. Uh, Jared.” He coughed awkwardly. “Duh. Anyway, I know I already texted you, but the interview went really well and I got the job! I know you said you’d organise something to celebrate but I haven’t heard from you all day, so I’ve had to come up with something myself. You snooze, you lose.” His laugh sounded tinny and false, even to his ears. “I’m heading out to dinner with the guys from the shelter, at the steakhouse out by the medical centre for six thirty. You’re more than welcome to join us.” He paused. “I really want you to come,” he said softly. “Please? I’m moving up in the world and I want you with me to celebrate.” Jared fiddled with Harley’s collar until the dog huffed and pulled away from Jared’s nervous fingers.

“Okay, then. Umm, if you can’t make it, let me know? We can have our own celebration later. Uh, bye.”

After he hung up, he slapped a palm to his forehead. That had been painful and awkward, and now Jared wasn’t looking forward to Jensen listening to him ramble on like an idiot. Doubt niggled away at him. What was he doing?

“No.” Jared pushed Harley off his lap and stood up. “Stop it. You’re looking for things that aren’t there,” he told himself. He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He bounced a little on his toes before checking his watch. Another forty or so minutes to wait. He strode into the kitchen, banging cupboard doors as he got out the dogs dinner, refilling the water bowls too. It took him less than five minutes. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’m walking.”

~*~

Even walking, Jared arrived ten minutes early and stood outside, looking out at the street. He watched people walk past him. There was a couple on the other side of the street, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, hers wrapped around his waist. She was laughing at something the guy had said, head tipped back. She missed the look of adoration on his face, but Jared didn’t. His chest was tight. It felt like nothing fit.

With perfect timing, Lucy appeared around the corner, yelling his name when she saw him. She ran towards him and he picked her up in a swooping hug. Her arms were tight around his neck and he could feel her smile as she pressed her cheek against his.

“Oh, I am so proud of you!”

Jared tightened his arms around Lucy’s waist. A wave of homesickness crashed over him. He missed his Mom, his Dad, his brother and sister, missed them hard enough that his eyes grew hot and itchy, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He pressed his face tighter into Lucy’s hair, hiding away from the enormity of what he was doing, of how he was living, of how he had cut out half of his life without thinking. The gnawing pit in his stomach was filled with regret.

“I miss my family,” he blurted out.

Lucy gave him a gentle squeeze and then pulled back to look at his face. “Oh, Jared.”

He shrugged his shoulders, couldn’t make himself look her in the eye. He was blinking rapidly. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“The boys are inside,” she said. “If you need to send a text or two, you can do that. Take your time.” With one last reassuring smile, she left to go inside, giving Jared some privacy.

For too long he had ignored his family. And today, of all days, should be one shared. He knew they would be proud of him, if not for, well, everything else. Jensen wasn’t here to distract him with his laughter or his kisses, and Jared couldn’t rely on him like that anymore. Their relationship was lop-sided and out of sync. But before he could work on that, he needed to make the first step back towards what he once ran away from. 

Jared pulled out his phone, opened up a new text message. He knew it was shitty to send just a text after all this time but he didn’t want to ring in case his Mom answered. Jared couldn’t deal with that. He bit his lip, stared down at the phone for a long moment. 

_Hi Mom. I’m sorry, for everything. I got a job in Richardson, a good one. I’m doing okay. I miss you and I love you. Please forgive me. Can we talk? Tomorrow? Jared x_

He stared at the pavement, tracking the cracks. It took someone bumping into him to snap him out of his trance. He looked up at the man who’d knocked into him, who was already several feet away from him, headphones on his head. Jared could hear the music pulsing from them even at this distance. He shook his head. His phone beeped in his hand. 

“Shit.”

_I’m so happy to hear from you, it’s been too long. We need to talk. I’ll call you tomorrow. We all miss you._

Jared smiled and tucked his phone back into his pocket. This was good. He wasn’t running away anymore. He walked into the restaurant, step a little lighter. Immediately, he spotted Lucy waving at him, Charlie and Matt beside her with amused expressions on their faces at her enthusiasm. Jared’s smile grew on his face as he pulled out a chair. 

“You good?” she asked once he sat down.

“Yeah. Gonna talk to my Mom tomorrow, sometime.” 

Lucy leaned over the table to squeeze Jared’s hand. “Proud of you.”

“Thanks, Luce.” Jared felt a swell of fondness for her. He could feel Matt and Charlie looking at them in slight confusion, and his fingers twitched under Lucy’s hand. He cleared his throat.

“So,” Lucy said brightly, pulling her hand back. “When’s Jensen coming?”

“I have to admit, I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Charlie said. Matt nodded.

“He hasn’t replied to any of my calls or texts. His phone is off or something. He’s probably still working.” Jared shrugged and picked up the menu. “You guys know what you’re getting? I’m torn between steak and more steak.” He ignored the concerned glances the three of them shared, just like he ignored how blank his phone remained for the rest of the evening.

Time alternatively sped up and crawled. Jared felt twitchy, his feet never still. The conversation was good and the steak was even better but he couldn’t help but resent the fact that Jensen wasn’t there. Lucy held court like a queen, kept the conversation away from any mention of Jensen, the fifth chair quickly whisked away when it became obvious that he would be a no-show. Matt had a wicked sense of humour, more so because of his quiet nature, and Jared found himself laughing so hard he cried. Charlie kept the beers flowing all the way up until dessert, when it was decided that there should be a change of pace.

“Shots!” demanded Lucy. Matt and Jared groaned.

“Oh god, no.” Matt waved a hand at her beseechingly. “Please. We have to work tomorrow.”

“Your boss will probably be more lenient if you bought him a shot or two,” Charlie said, giving them a sly look.

“That’s great and all, but I am out.” Matt shook his head. “I’m tipsy enough already because _somebody_ kept buying me alcohol.” He gave Charlie an accusing stare. Jared hiccupped a laugh. He was more than tipsy but less than drunk. Everything had a nice film to it, edges softened and less likely to hurt.

“What about you, Jared?” Lucy asked. He shrugged.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“That’s not a no,” she crowed.

Jared thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Nah, I won’t. I’ve reached a nice mellow and if I drink anything harder, I’ll wind up getting all morose and stuff.” He nodded slowly. “Yup.” He made a popping plosive sound. “I’m done.”

Lucy pouted. “Jared.”

He leaned over to clap her on the shoulder. “I am very sorry,” he said solemnly. “But I cannot continue further in your revelry.” He snickered. Charlie raised an eyebrow and Matt sighed.

“I think Jared is a little more wasted than he thinks he is,” he said.

“Lies,” Jared replied, pointing an accusing finger at Matt with narrowed eyes. “Lies and slander.” 

Matt rolled his eyes. “I think it’s time we head home.” He caught the eye of a passing waiter and made the universal sign of asking for the bill. 

Jared fumbled in his pocket to get his wallet out. He made a triumphant noise when he succeeded. He’d had to out his phone out as well and he checked the screen. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

“Jensen’s going to break up with me, isn’t he?” Jared glanced up, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. God, he really was a little bit nearer to drunk than he’d thought. Lucy looked at him sadly while Matt pursed his lips. Charlie’s face gave nothing away. None of them disagreed with him or rushed to convince him otherwise. His heart sank. There was a long pause.

“I think,” Matt said slowly. “I think it depends on whether you’ll let him or not.”

“I don’t--.” Jared scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What?”

“I mean, is it worth it to you?” Matt shrugged. “It appears like Jensen hasn’t been pulling his weight in your relationship. Maybe he has a good reason for that, maybe he doesn’t. But is it worth it to find out?”

Jared opened his mouth and then closed it. He frowned, bit his lips. He thought about the times when Jensen would look at him with such intensity, Jared was sure he’d drown in it. Their relationship, he realised, was unbalanced. Both Jared and Jensen fell into this relationship without talking about it, about their expectations, what they wanted from each other. The foundation was cracked but it could be patched up or let crack further. Jared needed to find out which. He looked down again at his phone and felt anger spark up. It was irrational and uncontrollable. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

He realised the three of them were still silent, waiting on him to speak.

“Thanks, Matt.” He tried to smile, though it came out more like a spasm. It was worth it to Jared. He needed to find out, before his anger became uncontainable and he cut his losses. He was trying to learn from his mistakes.

The waiter arrived with the bill and cut through the tension around the table. Jared cleared his throat. “How much do I owe?”

“Oh, no.” Lucy shoved at his hand holding his wallet. “This is on us, our treat.”

This time, when Jared smiled, it was much more genuine. “Thank you.”

Quickly the bill was paid and they were tumbling out of the door, laughing as Jared tripped over his own feet. 

“You okay to get home?” Lucy reached up for a hug.

“Yeah.” Jared squeezed her tight, pouring all his gratitude into the hug. “I walked here, so I’ll walk back, no biggie.”

Lucy pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. “Whatever happens, you can always call me.”

Jared flushed, itched to pull away but didn’t. “I know.”

“Good,” she said and she pinched his cheeks.

“Ow!”

She pranced out of his reach cackling. “See you soon, honey!” She blew kisses at the boys and then she was gone, a little whirlwind.

Chuckling, he shook hands with Matt and Charlie slapped him on the back. “We’ll miss you at the shelter, you know.”

“I’m not leaving for another few weeks yet.”

Charlie nodded. “Still, we made a good team.” He gave Jared another slap and then he too was gone.

Matt looked at him consideringly. “If you love Jensen, try to find some way to make it work. And if it can’t be fixed, let it go and move on. Life’s too short.”

“Umm.” Jared blinked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Matt gave him a salute and turned around, made a dash to cross the road. He gave a wave before he turned round the corner, and then it was just Jared. He started to walk home. He had a lot to think about.

~*~

The walk home was a blur, Jared’s head full of thoughts that he couldn’t quite grasp. He was angry and he was scared and he was lost.

He looked up at Jensen’s bay window. The room beyond it was dark but there was a light in the kitchen. He couldn’t see any movement. Jared hurried up the steps and let himself into the apartment building. He found himself outside Jensen’s door, hand raised to knock, Matt’s words ringing in his ears. He had to know.

Jared rapped his knuckles on the door and waited.

Nothing. He knocked again and waited longer. Still nothing.

[](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/nothingisok_zps83321e44.png.html)

He felt the swell of anger press up against his insides, a tidal wave that had him pushing away and slamming into his own apartment. He wanted to shout, his hands fisted in his hair. He paced the floor, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“The fucking-” His voice was loud and he heard the dogs whine from the bedroom, the rustling of them moving around. He deflated. It was too late, he wasn’t sober. He couldn’t do this. Jared’s throat clogged up, a lump he couldn’t swallow around.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured, defeated. He went into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt. He threw his clothes onto the floor, not caring, and when he’d undressed down to his boxers, he flopped onto the bed. 

Harley was already on the bed and Sadie jumped up from where she had been lying on her bedding in the corner. She clambered onto the bed, snuggling into Jared’s side. 

“Hey, girl.” He grinned tiredly, his heart hurting. He rubbed his wet eyes on the pillowcase. Sadie rubbed her nose along his arm and he draped it across her back. Jared felt his eyes close. He was exhausted. He let out a sigh and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up hours later, limbs trembling and covered in a cold sweat. Terror made his heart pound and adrenaline coated his mouth in a bitter taste. 

“Fuck,” he panted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He wrestled with the covers that had gotten tangled around his legs during the night and pushed out from underneath a drooling Harley. He stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He stared at his face in the mirror, pale and washed out. His eyes looked bruised. He couldn’t remember what the nightmare had been about, like all the times before, but he was left with a lingering feeling of grief and loss and a panic so intense he thought he’d have a heart attack.

He pushed his wet hair off his forehead. His head ached. 

Jared walked unsteadily out to the kitchen, where he filled a glass of water and swallowed down some Advil. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and let out a quiet groan. It was half past six in the morning. He’d barely gotten six hours sleep.

He went back into the bedroom, pawing through his jeans on the floor to get his phone. There was a little flicker of hope that he’d have a text message or a phone call from Jensen, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Jared pulled on his jeans and threw on a t-shirt he grabbed from the floor. Before he even knew what he was doing, Jared stormed across the hallway, seeing nothing but red, his hands clenched into fists, nails digging half-moons into the skin of his palms. He had enough presence of mind to grab his keys and shut the door behind him, and then he was banging his fist on Jensen’s door, so fucking pissed, not caring about what time it was in the morning. 

All he had ever done was want to be a part of Jensen’s life, for Jensen to be a part of his. Both broken when they met, maybe still so, but filling each other up until those broken pieces didn’t hurt so much anymore. And now, now, what was Jared to Jensen? Unimportant, clearly, so damned forgettable. Well, Jared was done, fucking done with it. He pounded on the door, not caring if he woke the entire apartment building up. He ignored the ache in the scar of his left hand, the scar Jensen had once so lovingly kissed while he pressed Jared down into the mattress of his own bed.

Jared stood there, five minutes, maybe ten, consistently hammering on the door. He waited for a sound, anything at all. Eventually he heard cussing and footsteps. Jensen opened the door, then, soft, sleepy-eyes and bed tousled hair and so adorable. Something stuttered in Jared’s chest but he would not be swayed. He would not be seduced by Jensen, by the freckles across his nose, the strength of his shoulders.

He didn’t ask to come in. He barged right through, knowing it was rude but who cared. Jensen didn’t. 

“Jared,” Jensen asked around a yawn, closing the door behind him. “What the hell is going on? Where’s the fire?” He rubbed at his eyes like a child and it all shattered in Jared’s chest, collapsed inwards, a pandemonium of crashing glass and clattering steel. 

“Have a good time last night, Jensen?” Jared sneered, standing up tall, feet planted wide. “You forget anything? Miss something?”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “Are you okay, Jared?” 

“No, Jensen,” Jared spat out. He was exploding. There were shards of Jared everywhere. “I am not fucking okay. You completely forgot about me last night. I know we never said what we were but I was hoping it was enough that you’d want to celebrate with me. I left you texts and voicemails. I knocked on your door. I thought about going down to your bookstore and asking Jacob where you were.” Jensen’s face twisted, just a little. “Did you find someone else?” He hated how small his voice was. He forced himself to sneer. His chest was collapsing under the weight of his question. 

“Probably, it’s not as if I’m memorable, is it, Jensen?” Jared took a step forward, crowded Jensen up against the door. Jensen was breathing shallowly, his eyes wide in shock. His mouth hung open. He shook his head violently. “I mean, never mind Jared, he’s only twenty-four. He’s just figured out he’s actually, bona fide, gay. He doesn’t know what he wants – he’ll move on and forget me so I’ll forget him.”

And there it was. Jared’s fear, spoken aloud, razor sharp and painful. Jared leaned in, slammed his palms flat against the wooden panelling above Jensen’s shoulders, crowded him in, caged. Jensen flinched, hard.

“Jared, I don’t understand-” Jensen gasped, tried to get the words out, make the stronger, maybe, but Jared didn’t let him, cut him off savagely.

“No! You just brushed me off last night. You ignored me. Do you know how many people I know here, a new guy in a new place with severed ties?” Jensen was shaking his head, getting more agitated. “Maybe I was an idiot,” Jared continued, “running away too far too fast. Maybe I put too much hope in you, in us, but it was like I had no one but you and my dogs for so long.”

“Jared, I didn’t, it’s not like that,” Jensen interrupted, pleading now and oh, score one for Jared Padalecki. He wanted to gouge into Jensen, rip him up, hurt him and then leave him. He wanted to leave this mess of a relationship.

“I got the job, Jen, I got it,” Jared all but snarled. “I’m twenty-four, fresh out of college with an engineering degree, do you know how lucky I am? And who do I want to share that with, this momentous thing that’s happened in my life?” Jared moved his hands to cup Jensen’s face, watched as those eyes widened, white rings around the green, framed with such long lashes, watched as Jensen got it, caught up to speed. Jared kissed him fiercely, desperately.

“I wanted to share it with you. Eat dinner together, go to bed and spend the whole night making each other scream. But I hear nothing from you, _nothing_ , how am I supposed to feel? I had to sit at a table with the guys from work, waiting for you to show up, humiliated.” He bent his head to lean against Jensen’s shoulder, heartsick. “I would have told you I loved you, you know that? Asked you to move out with me, get a house, a backyard, be a family.” He moved back to look into Jensen’s eyes but couldn’t catalogue what he saw. “Live my dream,” he said softly.

[](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/ilovedyou_zps83c87fc5.png.html)

And then he shoved away from Jensen, scrubbed a hand across his mouth, over his eyes.

“But all I got was a bit fat pile nothing, with a side order of fuck you.”

“I didn’t know how you felt, Jared, how was I supposed to know?” Jensen said beseechingly. He reached his hands out to Jared and then jerked them back. He folded his arms, hunching forward.

Jared laughed, a broken sound, hollow and brittle. “You could have asked. I just wanted you to ask.”

He heard Jensen walk over to him, the soft swishing sound of his bare feet against the carpet, felt hands cover his own, pull them down from his face and Jensen was so sorry, he could see that. God, Jared wanted it, wanted him so bad, he’d take it and run with it and never look back.

“I’m sorry, Jared, that I made you feel like this, but you can’t honestly believe that I could forget about you. Come on, you’re not that dense.” 

Jared snorted, sighed. “You’re working all the time, being secretive. You haven’t been letting me in. Whether it’s intentional or not, you’ve pretty much ignored me. I’ve had enough.” Jared pulled back his shoulders. “I’ve had enough. I want to know what’s going on. Tell me. Please.”

Jensen turned away, scrubbed a hand through his hair again. He began pacing between the door and the bookcase, his hands making strange twisting gestures, a nervous fidget. He stopped, grabbed a book from a shelf and stared at it for a long moment before handing it over to Jared.

“I wrote this,” he said, simply, plainly, and Jared looked down at the book now in his hands, a black cover with the name D.S. Winchester in white.

“What,” Jared said, shocked. He couldn’t believe – why would Jensen say this. He stared down at the book in confusion, his grip slack.

“I’ve been writing again, decided to drop the pseudonym. My agent, Robert, was kinda against it but now thinks the revealing of my identity will help rake in the cash. Whatever, it’s not about that. I couldn’t tell you, couldn’t do it, because you love him so much, he means so much to you and what if I couldn’t live up to that? What if I destroyed –”

Jared couldn’t bear to hear another word, devastation rolling through him, anger nipping at its heels, enveloping him, covering him, and Jared couldn’t think through the fog of it.

“Stop.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse, a cracked and bleeding thing. He handed the book back to Jensen with a shaking hand, couldn’t even look at him. “Stop it, don’t. I can’t.” And there was the anger, so much easier to handle than this heartbreak, that Jensen would stoop so low, had created this lie, this delusion, for what? So Jensen could have a clean break.

“Fuck you.”

“Jared, what.” Jensen blinked up at him, so confused, pale, freckles standing out against his skin so starkly. 

“I said, ‘Fuck. You.’ Why would you say something like that? Do you want me to leave?” He stopped, choked at a sudden upsurge of pain, of loss, clung onto the anger to get through it. “If you want me to leave, all you have to do is say so. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

“You think I’m lying,” Jensen said flatly, voice a monotone, face slowly erasing all emotion, settling into something carefully blank. “You actually think I’m lying.”

“Just tell me the truth,” Jared roared, the shout building up and blasting out, and Jensen flinched, like he had been slapped, the sun from the bay window pouring in and making his hair seem blonde, the outer edges a halo. Jared refused to be swayed, would not give in.

“I write poetry under the pseudonym D.S. Winchester.”

“You can’t even be honest with me. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jensen stepped closer, that blank face melting away to reveal a burning anger. “You can’t even believe me. What the _fuck_ is wrong with _you_ , then, huh?” There was a flicker of such pain in his eyes before Jensen covered it up. “You can’t trust me. You don’t believe in me. You don’t believe me at all! So what the hell are you still doing here?”

“Fuck you too.” Jared snarled the words, said them nastily, viciously, cutting through the air like a heavy handed slap. “All I am is a distraction from how much you miss your father and how he left you all alone,” Jared taunted, hated himself for it. He knew what would happen as soon as those words left his lips. Jensen stood forward and shoved him, hard enough that Jared fell to the ground. He knocked his elbow against the wood of the coffee table, a jolt of anguish shredding along his nervous system.

He looked up, saw Jensen’s heaving chest. 

“Jesus,” Jensen panted, face twisted. “Jesus fuck, I didn’t mean to – shit.” His hands were hanging in mid-air, as if he was offering Jared a hand up. He didn’t come any closer. There was still an angry flush glowing across his skin. Jared picked himself up, arms shaking. 

“Jensen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step back when Jensen flinched.

“No. No, I can’t –.” Jensen closed his eyes. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. I’m sorry if I hurt you but.” He sighed, the sound hitching like a silent sob. “You’ve got what you wanted so you can leave now.” Jensen shook his head, a defeated slump to his shoulders. Bile rose up in Jared’s throat. His guilt and shame made him nauseous. What had he expected? Wasn’t this what he had wanted? Wasn’t it what he had set out to do as he ran across the hallway, began pounding on that door?

“I can’t even look at you, can’t believe you would just –” Jensen shook his head. “Never mind. We’re done, Jared. Run away from the mess you made.” Jared’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His eyes burned. “It’s what you did before, isn’t it? I’m not gonna stop you now.”

Jensen didn’t move, stood in the centre of the room. There was a fine trembling in his limbs, if Jared looked close enough. He wasn’t alone in this heartbreak because of his anger and desperation, his stupid impulsiveness. He was nothing but a kicked dog, lashing out before it could be hurt again. Wash, rinse and repeat. Jared took a last look at Jensen, at his now cold eyes and closed off face. He could see nothing now of the man he loved in there.

He walked around Jensen and paused by the door. He could hear Jensen’s heavy, choppy breathing behind him. Life isn’t a fairytale and there are no guaranteed happy endings.

He ran.

~*~

**EPILOGUE**

Jared pulled his coat a little tighter around him as he walked around the corner, a gust of wind colder than expected making him shiver. Winter was merging slowing back into spring, but it was still felt. His coat was too light, the sun deceiving when he had looked out the window that earlier. As he had pulled it on, rushing, Harley and Sadie had leapt to their feet. Their barks of excitement quickly turned to dejected whines when it became apparent that they wouldn’t be going out with him. He felt awful, shooing them out into the backyard at the last minute, but what else could he do? At least Jared’s new place had a backyard, the biggest thing about the place and one of the main reasons he moved there, the others being proximity to work and distance from his – his mistakes.

He inhaled sharply and shook his head, hair too long again and brushing against his cheekbones.

Jared pulled up abruptly outside the door to the bookstore and stared at the sign, biting his lip. His feet were glued to the pavement. It didn’t surprise him, this fear, caught between the desire to see Jensen, for the first time in almost seven months, and the desire to turn about face and walk away. Except, that was what he did before, isn’t it? Cut everything to ribbons, damaged beyond repair and then ran away. 

Locking himself away, Jared had spent weeks avoiding Jensen, changing his running patterns so he wouldn’t spot Jensen sitting in his bay window, eyes blazing with anger burning right through Jared. He moved away as soon as he could, bandaged up his heart and plastered on a smile. Lucy tried to talk to him about it, and he shut her out in the beginning but eventually caved. She wanted him to reconcile with Jensen, kept telling him that there had to be some misunderstanding. Jared was too ashamed to speak to Jensen, couldn’t stand the possibility of receiving the vitriol he so very much deserved. 

He focused on the banner placed up against the glass panelling of the door. His eyes traced the words ‘D.S Winchester’ and he knew that he would go in, even as he hesitated outside. He had to see the man whose words had changed him, irrevocably. Who had opened him to the possibility of something else, something more. And even though the result of that had nearly broken Jared’s heart beyond repair, it had been worth it, for those brief few months where everything had been almost perfect. And he had to apologise to Jensen, for the words he had hurled at him.

Jared had a lot to atone for.

He still didn’t move to open the door although he saw through the glass that the introductions had already begun. This was Jensen’s territory and Jared knew he was intruding. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. Jared took a deep breath and pushed open the door. He walked inside with his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.

He kept his eyes lowered, catching brief glances of this little place that Jensen loved so much and something twisted violently in him stomach. A now familiar trepidation and dread rushed through him, and his arms broke out in goosepimples. 

_What if Jared had been wrong?_ It was a question he’d asked himself endlessly over the last seven months, equally terrified of either answer. Bitterness flooded his mouth. As always, he was horrified by the thought, by the possibility. The coincidence of the reveal of D.S. Winchester happening in Jensen’s little bookstore, of all the places in Texas.

“Oh no,” Jared moaned, under his breath. He felt ill. Movement to his left made him look over and he saw Jensen’s friend Jakob stare at him intensely, leaning on the stained wood of the counter. Jared froze. Jakob’s gaze was piercing, assessing, but there was nothing hateful in his eyes, no sneer of his face. He forced himself to shuffle into one of the chairs at the very back. 

The chairs were set facing the centre of the store, where a desk was placed in front of all the bookshelves that had been pushed away to make room. Piles of Winchester’s new book were placed on either end of the desk with a chair behind it. In front, a man, probably Winchester’s agent, was speaking, his arms waving about in his excitement, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. Despite the rolling nausea in his stomach, Jared forced himself to listen.

“—about love and loss, finding something incredible, perfect, too much like a fairytale, and then losing what was found in the worst of ways. This book is about how a relationship can fill up your whole world and inspire you, and how quickly it can turn sour.” The man paused, gazed around at the people assembled in the chairs before him and smiled. “But most importantly, it is about self-discovery and forgiveness.” 

This is D.S. Winchester’s finest collection of poetry and I can’t wait for you to agree with me,” a ripple of small chuckles swept through the audience, “and so, without further, I present to you, D.S. Winchester.”

This was the moment and Jared gripped the sides of his chair, leaning as far forward as he could. The sharp edges of the chair dug grooves into the palm of his hand and the underside of his fingers. Jared’s mouth was dry and he was sweating. He could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears, hear each slightly panting breath. His vision seemed to tunnel, focusing on the door of the back room as it opened.

The was a burst of applause and the door behind the counter opened, Jensen walked through and Jared felt as if his heart had been shoved up into his mouth. Jared’s felt the blood leave his face and he sunk down into his chair, slouched, hid. The nausea got worse, twisted his stomach into knots, but he couldn’t look away.

Jensen looked good. Jensen always looked good, bright green eyes, freckled skin, his hair lightly tousled, like he’d been running his fingers nervously through it. 

Jared couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t—

Jared felt like he was on fire, his lungs were burning, like a fish thrown out of the water and left to suffocate on dry land. He knew, he _knew_ , even as he tried to deny it. He refused to believe it because if it was true, if it was _true_ \--

“Oh God,” Jared whispered, voice stuck in his throat and breaking. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

When Jensen reached the other man, he shook his hand, gave him a nervous smile, and then turned that smile onto the crown, all of them still clapping. Except Jared. 

“May I give you, Jensen Ackles, poet extraordinaire and owner of this fantastic bookstore,” the other man announced, made a flourishing gesture with the hand not holding Jensen’s, and then took a step backwards. “Jensen is going to give his own quick introduction before giving a small reading, and then we will open the floor to your questions.”

Jared fingers were cramping from his tight grip. He couldn’t let go.

Jensen waved at the group gathered before him. “Thanks, Robert,” he laughed nervously. “You make it sound like so much more than it is. It’s poetry that came out of a turbulent time in my life and how, in many ways, I finally came to peace with that.” He cleared his throat, eyes flicking across the faces in front of him. “My father passed away, over a year ago now, and I couldn’t see past it. Without his support, I floundered. Up until he died, he had been the one pushing me to reveal myself to the world but when he was gone, I folded in on myself. And then I met someone who, instantly and bizarrely, made me open back up again.” Jensen looked down at the floor, a brief smile tugging at his lips before it morphed into a frown. “As Robert said previously, it didn’t end well.” He shrugged. “I expected too much and gave to little, and he – ”

Jensen cut himself off abruptly and gave a weighted sigh. Jared’s feet tensed, pressing against the floor. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“He wasn’t ready, incapable of staying in one place. But I realised that this is the way life is sometimes. What God giveth, he also taketh away. And on that happy note,” Jensen reached to pull one of his books across the table, “I will read you something new. This is called “The End”.

“ _I like honey off your skin_  
and trace the taste though our histories  
we are not yet but we hoped to be  
I hoped we had a future, lined with the filled cracks  
where we shattered and became something new  
but this is the end…”

Jared zoned out, horror slicking his insides, ice cold, and mortification made his cheeks burn. He had been a fool, angry and bitter and looking for thing that weren’t there so that he could have his reason, his _excuse_ , for running away. Jensen had been right about him and that was a hard pill to swallow.

Those were D.S. Winchesters words, but they were Jensen’s too, and they had been written for Jared and about Jared. He had thrown away such a gift and he hated himself for it. He was determined not to squander such a thing again. He uncurled his hands from the sides of his chair. He grimaced as the blood flowed back, thumping painfully back into his gnarled fingers. It hurt. 

“-the relationship with? What happened to him?” He caught the end of the question, from a woman sitting in front a few rows in of him. Jared sunk lower in his seat. Between the heads of the people arrayed before him, he could see Jensen’s face, the creased brow and downturned mouth, how they were quickly smoothed away. Jensen let out a dry laugh.

“Yes. I haven’t spoken to him in several months.” Jensen paused for a long time. “He pulled a disappearing act on me. I’m not proud of the things I said to him, as well as how I treated him. I didn’t act like a nice guy. But he was gone and there was no chance for reconciliation. I didn’t make an effort either.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, mouth pinched. “As for our relationship, he wasn’t ready, didn’t believe in me. It was bad timing.” Jensen pulled his hand down to scratch at his jaw. 

“Would you forgive him or even get back together?” It was the same woman and she sounded curious, intrigued.

Jared’s heart turned over in his chest, thumped sickly. His hands were clammy and he wiped them on his jeans.

Jensen opened his mouth, closed it again. He chewed on his lip. He sighed.

“I don’t know.” He held out his hands. “Forgive him? He had a lot going on when we were together, stuff that nobody deserves to go through. That’s not to excuse him but in a way, I can understand the pressure he was under. So, in time, maybe I could forgive him, if he could forgive me for my actions on that day.” Jared sucked in a wavering breath. That shove was the only violence Jared had ever seen come from Jensen and Jared had all but goaded Jensen into it. There was nothing to forgive. 

“Would we get back together?” Jensen continued. He shook his head. “He didn’t believe in my when I needed him to the most. I can’t let that go that easy. He’d have to work for it.” He gave a smile that didn’t sit right on his face and slid off too quickly for it to be real.

Jensen didn’t say no. Jared could feel hope swell, could taste in in the back of his throat. He had a _chance_. He could prove himself, couldn’t imagine not trying. He would put himself forward. He would try. Try and hope that Jensen didn’t shoot him down.

Jared wasn’t the same person he was seven month ago. Neither was Jensen. They might be a better fit now. He locked the thought into place, tucked it into his chest, right beside his heart. He sat up from his slouch, squared his shoulders. 

“And on that note,” Jensen’s agent, Robert said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get on with the signings.”

Jared bounced his knees, blew out a heavy breath. “Screw your courage to the sticking place,” he whispered. He rubbed his hands over his face and the pushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ears. He would wait until the end to take his place in the queue. Time trickled by slowly, Jensen listening to every single person in front of him, asking their name, listening to their story. Some people seemed to get upset and Jensen reached up to give them a hug. Jared felt his eyes grow hot. He discreetly wiped at the tears that threatened to fall.

“He hasn’t forgiven you.” 

Jared jerked in surprise, whipping around to see Jakob sitting beside him, looking at him with cool eyes. 

“He took a chance with you and you threw it back in his face.” The words were harsh but the voice calm and even. Jared still flinched. The truth of Jakob’s words stung, like salt rubbed in a fresh wound.

“I know.” Jared’s voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper, forced around the lump in his throat. He cleared his throat. “I do, and I don’t expect a miracle. But I’m not leaving.” He looked over at Jensen, now laughing at something someone said. Jared’s heart ached. “He deserves an apology, at the very least.”

“He never got over you either, you know. And he still regrets how he treated you that day.”

Jared turned back to Jakob. “There isn’t anything for him to regret. And even if it takes forever for him to even talk to me, I have all the time in the world,” he said, honestly, voice clear. “I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

Jakob kept his gaze on Jared for a very long time before he nodded and stood up, moved back behind the counter. Jared knew it was the closes thing to a blessing as he could expect.

When the queue had filtered down to a bare handful, the rest milling about the space or else up at the counter with Jakob, Jared made his way over, heart sore and filled with a fluttering feeling he dared not name. He drank his fill of Jensen – his eyes, his mouth, his voice, his hands carefully signing the books opened in front of him. He was a charcoal grey shirt, his broad shoulders pronounced. The first button was open, revealing his clavicle. He was pale, though, and his bright smile couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes, not to Jared. 

He missed Jensen, more than he had allowed himself to admit.

The person in front of him moved away, and Jensen reached for the next book open ready at his side, pen poised. Jared watched with a sinking feeling as Jensen looked up at him, recognition flashing across his face. He flinched, his face contorting before smoothing out, unreadable. He looked straight at Jared and his eyes were blank.

“Who am I signing this for?” he asked in monotone. His hand was clenched around his pen, knuckles pressing white against his skin.

“It’s for someone who wants to apologise and is willing to work for it.” He attempted a weak grin but is slid off at Jensen’s unchanging face. There was a long pause as Jensen stared at Jared unblinking. Jared resisted the urge to fidget. 

“I am sorry, Jensen,” Jared said softly, quiet enough to allow an illusion of privacy. “I have no excuse for how I treated you, so I won’t try to give you one.”

A flicker of something, Jensen’s mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed. He rolled his shoulders and begins to write something on the book before him. 

“Thank you for coming, I appreciate your support.” It was said mechanically, something learned of for this specific occasion. Jared went cold and he thought he heard something crack, shatter. He couldn’t breathe. His lips hurt from where he was biting them. 

“Oh.” His voice cracked and faded at the end, whittled away to nothing. Jared turned around, made his way to the door, prepared to forever leave his heart there at Jensen’s feet. His whole face felt numb. He wanted to go home. He wanted a hug from his Mom, her famous chocolate mud pie placed in front of him, her heart break fixer. Except he doubted it would fix anything. 

He had lost his happy ending. 

“Jared.” It wasn’t very loud but it was enough to have Jared spinning back immediately, breathless with the possibility that, that _maybe_ \--

“Do you.” Jensen cleared his throat. He was standing in front of his desk, cheeks flushed and nervously chewing his lips. He was the most beautiful thing Jared had ever seen. He took a step closer to Jensen. “Do you want to go for coffee?”

“Yes! Today?” Jared said instantly, eager and too loud, given the way that people turned around to look. He didn’t care. The tension around Jensen’s eyes disappeared. There was a hint of a curve around his lips.

“You’ll have to wait until after I finish up here. It might take a while.” Jensen gave a small, half-shrug. 

“That’s okay.” Jared closed the distance between them slowly, almost hesitant. “I can wait.” After a moment, he tentatively placed his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. When Jensen looked at him with an increasing warmth, he gave a light squeeze. 

“This time,” he said with meaning, “I’m not going anywhere.” He moved his hand down until it came in contact with Jensen’s. Their fingers curled around each other.

Jensen smiled at him. It was like winter was over and the sun had finally come out.

[](http://s270.photobucket.com/user/talulababy_album/media/Bigbang_2013/forgiveness_zpse25def4a.png.html)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, now that I'm finished, it's time to do the easiest part of this entire endeavour: saying thank you! First off, I gotta say thank you to my wonderful artist, talulababy, for creating such lovely banners and posters. I am very grateful that you chose my fic way back in May, and even in it's horrible rough draft, still found such lovely moments to create your graphics for. Click the [link](http://talulababy.livejournal.com/161919.html) and tell them all about their awesomeness.
> 
> Merci beaucoup to my amazing, genius beta [kaylocker](http://kaylocker.tumblr.com/). I originally wrote this fic for the 2011 round of the Big Bang but due to family issues, had to pull out. What Kay got a month or so ago was a two-year old mess. I had no idea what I wanted to say because I couldn't really remember what my intention had been (I had also written the fic, 20k at the time, in less than 18hours, so there was that as well). There were serious issues. It was not my best work *coughcough*. But Kay was a drill sergeant and they whupped my ass. They deserve a super-special giftbasket for their birthday, I'm just saying. 
> 
> And finally, thanks, as always, must go to the Big Bang mods wendy and thehighwaywoman for running this challenge yet again! It's the seventh year running, or something equally ridiculous.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://allhail-theglowcloud.tumblr.com/)!


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